The Boogie Man
by Alexnandru Van Gordon
Summary: Adopting the orphaned, acrobatic Richard Grayson was a big change in Batman’s life. He likes the kid—and wants to be a good father, but you should listen to children when they speak of oddities and monsters…
1. Chapter one: The shadows

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Quite frankly, I think all things innocent children say are worth listening to. Whether it is the utter nonsense you have to ask them to repeat as you laugh your head off, or the simple tale that there is something lurking in their closest. Sometimes you should listen—I told my parents there was something big and hairy thing in my closet and they listened to me—what's more was that I was right. It was a huge wolf spider…I still don't like that memory even though I don't hate spiders…quite fascinating creatures, actually.

Well, I always thought it was neat that Robin, being this smart tiny kid, became a hero. I'm sixteen, and although many people think others my age speak too quickly, I think children aren't given as much credit as they deserve. The only ever lie because their afraid of the punishment you _always _give them even if you promise not too, and they won't tell you something unless it's important to them. If you have kids, I hope you listen to them—and always check for wolf spiders. My sister got a nasty bit from that little bugger in my closet…

QUICK NOTE: Robin is Richard Grayson; only nine years old, and that's pretty tiny when you consider it. My little cousin is quite little when I go to visit him, and he's nine—still can't understand what he says over the phone…

SUMMARY: Adopting the orphaned, acrobatic Richard Grayson was a big change in Batman's life. He likes the kid—and wants to be a good father, but you should listen to children when they speak of oddities and monsters…

DISCLAIMER: Don't own them—but I love hero stuff!

CHAPTER ONE: The shadows

It was the summer and, as he promised, Richard was allowed to stay up later now that he didn't have to worry about waking up early for school. When he said late, he sure as heck didn't mean as late as they had stayed up this night. It was five o-clock and the time practically flew by as they stopped at least eight different robbery _attempts_. With the help of his young ward, the job was done rather quickly, but five a.m.?...Someone was going to be cranky in the morning—and Alfred wasn't going to be there to help. He was off to visit a funeral in England, having a close relative die. Bruce didn't hesitate in allowing the man to go and reassured him that he and Dick could hold the fort alright on their own for a couple of days.

Why did Alfred look so worried when he left? It couldn't be that hard to take care of Dick.

Boy was he wrong.

Richard wasn't the type of kid who jumped at his shadow or whined and screamed whenever something happened to his displeasure, but he was hyper when he had nothing on his hands to do and trouble was seemingly fond of the boy. Bruce only left him in the den for a second before he heard a crashing noise and saw Dick catching an expensive vase. The small table it stood on was tipped over on the floor and a small pile of books had been scattered here and there. How or _why_ it had fallen was beyond his understanding, but he passed it aside as a first time crime and didn't mention it to Dick besides telling him to be careful.

Nothing else came close to breaking in his house after that, but Richard went missing a considerably large amount of times. It was creepy in that first day the two of them were alone in the mansion. One moment Bruce would be staring at case files, Dick sitting next to him while he read a book—and then, without even noticing it, Dick was gone. It must have taken him an hour to find the boy before he went outside the house and saw Richard sitting up in a tree. He was watching a bird in it nest at the branch across from him, not scared in the least from the tremendous height he was sitting at. He didn't even notice Bruce until his surrogate father cleared his throat, arms crossed.

"Hi." The boy said curiously with the small wave of a hand. "Something wrong?"

"You've been out here the entire time?"

"No…" The boy stared up at the mansion. "I was on the roof a little while back."

The roof? What the heck was he doing on the roof?

He really didn't want to know, telling Robin to get out of the tree and to never climb back onto the roof again. He couldn't see how the boy would get up there in the first place…but Dick was an acrobat. There wasn't much that he couldn't do already—some things Bruce wouldn't want to try in a lifetime.

It was quiet after that and night fell rather fast after he interested Richard in another book. When it was time for the night patrol, Bruce swore he had never seen Dick as haywire before. The boy was ready and set to go in the Batmobile before Bruce had even changed into his suit, turning from the secretive billionaire Mr. Wayne into the Dark Knight, Batman. Robin…he had no idea why the boy preferred wearing a traffic light coloured suit. How did he ever sneak around at night?

Well, he could do it well enough at day. Why not during the night with happy colours on?

He was slipping on his gloves, opening the car side door when the a little voice startled him.

"Can I drive?"

He wasn't easy to scare, but he hadn't seen Robin slip into the driver's seat while he changed. "Do you have a license?" He asked; an eyebrow arched behind the cowl.

Robin made a face and moved to his seat, muttering a small _No_ in bitter defeat. "But do you know where I can get one?"

He shivered internally at the thought. "Ummm…Canada?"

"How do I get there?"

"You drive."

"I drive…Hey! I can't drive!"

He smiled. "My point exactly."

Robin fumed quietly for a while longer as they drove off into Gotham, but his temper died quickly. He was rather excited to get outside the house again—staring out the window at everything while Batman drove on. Then he began to fiddle around with his seatbelt.

"What happens if I take this off?"

"You'll fly through the window if we're hit or I step on the brakes too fast." He replied quickly, glancing sideways at Robin in worry. The boy no longer teased the subject and ignored his seatbelt. Perhaps something was on the boy's mind…He was talking about a lot of odd things lately.

The night went through rather quickly—eight robberies stopped as said before. It was when Batman and Robin split up one last time in the night that _she_ came along.

Catwoman.

"Hey there." She said, standing just at the ledge of one of Gotham's tallest buildings. She was staring at the street below before she turned around to face him. "Up late, I see. Don't you usually go home early to put the baby bird to sleep?"

He frowned. "Why? What time is it?"

There was a pause and she arched an eyebrow as she stepped off the ledge toward him and smiled slyly. "Five a.m. What happened—lost your watch?"

Five a.m…That wasn't good—and how could he have lost track over time. More importantly, where the heck was Robin? The kid couldn't have gotten that far by now…

He turned to leave, but a laugh from the neutral enemy made him pause. She always had something to say that he usually ended up needing to know.

"He's fine, you know. I saw him head back to your wheels looking _pretty_ tired…" She slowly walked up behind and around him to stand in his way. Grinning still, she eyed his lips with a lick of her own. "I'm sure he's fast asleep in your car."

"I've got to—"

She silenced him rather abruptly and he actually hesitated to pull away from the kiss. He knew he should have arrested her…but he should have done that a lot of other times too. It was late and he was tired—he wasn't exactly thinking straight.

"Yuck."

Both adults jumped at the sound and the burglar almost fell as she stumbled away from him a few feet. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, both she and Batman turned to see Robin sitting near the ledge with his legs crossed. Rubbing a sore masked eye, the child yawned.

"What are you doing?"

Catwoman and Batman tried to find the right words, but neither could think of a plausible explanation.

"We were…" Catwoman rubbed the back of her head. "…Socializing."

"Socializing?...That's what they say to do at school, but I've never seen it done that way before."

Batman tried hard not to laugh. Catwoman, blushing slightly from either being caught off guard or embarrassed by a small boy, turned around and began to walk away. Batman had half a mind to arrest her…but he couldn't think of any reason to right now. Besides, he wasn't going to chase her until the break of dawn and leave Robin waiting.

"You should stop socializing." Robin stated, more as though he was ordering it than suggesting it. "If the cops see that they won't be too happy."

Batman allowed himself to laugh freely this time. Kids said the darnest things, and Robin was even right. That wouldn't look too good for his reputation if someone saw that happen. He was lucky it was only his son; even if Robin was too young to get into that sort of stuff—all little kids were like that.

"Come on, let's go home."

Robin shrugged and stood. Batman could tell that the child didn't want to admit he was tired, but he was—especially when he almost fell on the way back to the car from simply walking…

---

By time they came back, Robin was fast asleep. Batman took his cape, gloves, mask and boots, carrying him up from the cave to put him to bed. His mind was still on the _event_ with Catwoman—not to mention he was slightly embarrassed about his son seeing the little meeting with the thief. He would have to explain it later to the boy when he was less tired.

He strolled into the kitchen, wanting to grab a glass of water for bed after putting Dick away and getting dressed—and saw Richard sitting at the table. The child had cleaned himself up and was sitting in shorts and a t-shirt for bed, hot in the large house since summer finally made its way to Gotham. He yawned, rubbing his eye, and drank some of his own water from a small glass on the table.

"Something wrong?" His father asked, eyeing the boy as he grabbed his own glass from the cabinet. "You should be in bed."

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat and drank more of his water, frowning with a little scowl at the far window. "Don't need to sleep."

Should have known.

Bruce took a seat at the table and eyed Richard. He was a little pale, shaking ever-so-slightly as though there was a chilly breeze at his back. He looked scared…but highly annoyed, almost as though he was reflecting over a bitter defeat.

Watching the oblivious child, he waved a hand in front of his son's face and was answered by a small jump. The boy drank more water, shivering again.

"What happened to you?"

"…I lost…"

He paused and thought that over for a moment. "To whom exactly did you lose?"

"Them."

That was…helpful… "And who are they?"

He shifted again. "The monsters in my room."

That answered a lot. All children had nightmares and believed there was something haunting them while they slept—it had to happen sooner or later to Dick, and he'd get over it in the end. Probably even sooner. Richard fought men more terrifying than any nightmare Bruce could recall having in his own childhood.

"They should be gone by now."

Robin shook his head quickly, looking more frightened now. "No, no—they're there."

He laughed and stood; his glass of water in hand. "Come on, kid. Time for bed."

The boy shook his head again and shrunk down a little into his seat. "I can sleep downstairs."

"Where?"

"The cave."

"But that's darker."

The boy paused in consideration, but he was bent on staying out of his room. "It's safer."

As true as that was Bruce shook his head and pointed toward to the hall by the kitchen. Richard, in a disobedient response, lay his head down on the table and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep. When Bruce grabbed his hand and threatened to drag him down the hall, Dick didn't move. He went so far as allowed himself to fall from his chair before he sat up on the floor and frowned.

"Please?"

Bruce ignored the child's plea and picked him up, carrying the sleepy child back up to his room. Tossing him down gently onto the bed, he watched as Dick scrambled toward the head board and leaned against it with his back, knees held close to his chest. His eyes were scanning the room cautiously, ignoring Bruce as he studied his young ward. Honestly, he had never seen the boy this frightened before. Even up against the Joker he failed to show this true fright.

"I'll check the closet if it makes you feel better." Bruce offered, but Richard quickly shook his head just like he had in the kitchen. "Under the bed then?"

"They aren't there."

"Then where do you think they're hiding?"

"…The shadows…."

-A-

I think that's a suitable place to leave you off. Eager to find out who this fiend is—or if there is really even a monster at all? Well, read on. I might be late with updates since I'm working on four other stories at a time, but if you guys really like this one I will make sure that I update at least once a week. I hope you enjoyed what I left you with so far—and keep in mind that this is my first Batman and Robin fic. I'm used to writing Teen Titans…

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	2. Chapter two: Nightmare number one

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Well…seeing that I got eleven reviews in one day, I take it I should make an update sooner rather than later? Yes?...I guessed as much. If you guys like it that much, I shouldn't complain.

Without further delay, I give you—chapter two…

DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything besides the plot.

ENJOY!

CHAPTER TWO: Nightmare number one

Sleep usually came easy for Richard, especially when he went to bed as late as he did last night—but sweet dreams did not come for the child this night or the night before. It had been happening for a while and he was tempted to tell Bruce what had been wrong with him. So much for that idea—Bruce still put him to bed and reassured him that there was nothing in his room. Well, at least he stayed until Richard fell asleep…

But what good did that do for him.

Tossing and turning in his bed, visions of his parents flashed through his mind. The most vivid of all was the event of his parents' death the night the rigging was cut by none other than Tony Zucco. Sometimes Richard wanted to beat the man personally, but he was out of Richard's reach. It was Batman's job to bring down the bad guys in the worst ways and there was certainly no convincing him to let Richard _kill_ someone. It was unheard of—especially for a small nine-year-old boy who grew up as an entertainer.

How he had gotten into being a soldier of justice was still beyond his understanding…It was just a stroke of odd luck…

_Richard!_

He sat up in bed and, lying so close to the edge, fell off to the floor with a light thud. He stared around the dark room with stinging eyes and waited until his vision adjusted before he stood and picked up his quilt. That had been his mom…or, at least, it sounded like his mom…

"Mom?" He called out quietly into the blank darkness. He could make out the bed and a few of his shelves, the curtains and the door—but there was no one in there that he could see besides himself. "Mommy…"

"_Come here, Robin. Come here, sweetie…"_

He couldn't pin point her position, but it sounded as though she was out on the balcony. He hadn't realized that it was left open, but perhaps Bruce did that before he left. After all, it was a bit stuffy inside his room…

"Where are you?" He asked in a small voice. He was scared and confused. Weren't his parents dead? Didn't he watch them fall to their death? "I can't see you…"

"_I'm here, dear. Come outside—I'm here…"_

But then why was she there? Was it some sort of trick? Was this a dream…

God, he wished it wasn't a dream. He would give anything for it to be reality, but he knew it wasn't. If she was alive, then why was he at Wayne Manor—put to bed after receiving numerous aches and pains from the battles he fought that same night? Robbers didn't hit lightly, and he wouldn't have chased them down had he not been Robin—sidekick. Robin the acrobat didn't service justice…

"You're not mom." He said with the angry attitude any nine-year-old used. He stood his ground and crossed his arms, not willing to walk into a trap. "Who are you?"

"_Richard, how dare you say that to your own mother!"_ The unknown visitor scolded. Robin was almost paralyzed with fear when a shadow stretched out across his room toward the door…a shadow coming from a person out on the balcony. _"Come here so we can leave, Richard. Daddy wants to see you too…"_

Enough was enough.

"Mommy doesn't call me Richard, even when she's angry." He replied matter-of-factly. "And daddy usually hunts me down when you two look for me. He said it's not nice to make a lady do all the errands."

Apparently, enough was enough for the fiend too.

"_ROBIN!"_

He covered his ears as the ear-piercing sound continued. His head ached from the sheer noise of it and he felt himself become dizzy as the shadow grew. Whoever it was, they were coming inside…

Falling onto the bed, Richard's sight slowly faded. All he saw was the black silhouette of whoever was entering his room—and it wasn't his mother. It wasn't a woman, and it wasn't someone he knew either.

So…he screamed.

-B-

He had never woken from his sleep any faster in his entire life. It startled him not only because it was a scream, but because he never heard anyone scream in his house before—especially a tiny kid. It was enough to wake the living dead, that was for sure, and that could almost be the case. Richard didn't scream—he rarely cried. Whatever scared him this time had to be big…

He bolted upright out of bed and dashed down the hallway toward Richard's room as he slipped his night coat on. He actually slipped on the carpet as he almost missed the door to Richard's room and stumbled inside after he opened the door. Richard had finished screaming by now and Bruce almost wished he hadn't—at least when he was screaming Bruce could tell that he was alive and in the same spot.

Thank God for the small figure curled up on the bed. Richard was sobbing his heart out into a pillow, muttering something that Bruce couldn't understand. Why the balcony window was open, he would never know—unless someone tried to break into the room while the child slept. But why Richard's room? It was easier to get inside from the windows on the main floor.

Sighing in relief, he sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Robin's shoulder, shaking him gently to get his attention. Robin, sitting up, didn't look at the man, but cried freely into his own hands before Bruce took him into his arms and held the weeping child close until he was quiet. He didn't dare question the child until he was through with his tears and that took a while.

"What's wrong?" Was his first question—wasn't it always the same one from every adult? "Had a bad dream, chum?"

Richard shook his head quickly, a natural answer he had been getting lately from the small boy. "It wasn't a dream—she was here—_it _was here!"

"And what is _it_?"

Richard didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked to the balcony with wide eyes and rested his head on Bruce's shoulder as another tear slid down his face. "It looked…it looked like mommy…"

Now he knew what was happening…Bruce had adopted Richard not too long ago and this was around the same time of the anniversary of his parents' death. It was a hard thing to get over—Heck! Even he still had nightmares about his own great lose. He always had nightmares and _always_ woke on the brink of tears if he wasn't already crying. Alfred was there to comfort him, and so he was here now to comfort Richard, holding the child closer to him as though he was about to lose him too. Sometimes he really worried long and hard about such things…He was already getting white hairs…

"Your mom is in heaven, Richard." He said in a reassuring tone of voice. "Maybe you saw her angel?"

Richard looked doubtful at the answer—even more frightened if that was possible. "No, no—she wouldn't want to hurt me! Mommy never hurt me before…"

"It hurt you?" The words blurted from his mouth. Nightmares didn't hurt. "What did it do to you?"

"My ears…" The little boy said softly. "It was screaming at me because I wouldn't come to it…"

He relaxed somewhat…He never had a dream where a person yelled at him loud enough to hurt his ears. There was no way he could tell if something really happened to Richard or if his mind was playing tricks on him. There just wasn't enough evidence…

"You look tired." Bruce whispered to the little boy and brushed back the short hair from his forehead. Richard didn't look at him, instead eyeing the balcony cautiously. He was sweating slightly and shivering again, pale in colour and faint in the eyes. Bruce wouldn't be surprised if the small boy passed out right then and there. "Maybe you should sleep again."

A little hand shot up to his shirt and grabbed a handful of the cloth tightly. Richard said nothing but continued to stare at where he supposedly saw his mother, wary at the thought of resting again. It was just like when they fought—Robin was so intoned to what was happening around him that he wouldn't put down his guard for a moment no matter how sore and tired he was.

"Come on. You need to rest."

Richard shook his head, appearing as though he was about to cry again. He sniffed and said nothing—not a good sign.

"I'll stay with you tonight. Nothing is going to take you."

That seemed to take a great deal of stress of the boy's shoulder as he released Bruce's shirt and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of relief. "Please?" He asked politely, referring to the suggestion.

Bruce laid down on top of the covers and pulled Richard down with him. The boy fell asleep almost instantly, resting in the arms of someone he trusted more than anyone else in the world. Finally at peace, the two slept.

And_ it_ watched over them ever so carefully…

-B-

He woke up and found that there was a warm space in his arms where a small somebody should have been. It was only eight o'clock and still the boy somehow managed to find the energy to get up on his own. With only three hours of sleep—and even less than that since the nightmare—it was amazing that the child wouldn't stay asleep until noon, something Bruce had expected him to do. Then again, Richard used to do flips and somersaults in the air for a living, so who knew?

Getting up, he headed back toward his room and dressed, coming downstairs when he heard Richard running around somewhere. He found him in the kitchen eating cereal which was almost overflowing with milk, his hair wet, and his t-shirt on backwards.

"Why are you wet?"

"I forgot to take a bath last night." Richard said as he yawned. "Alfred wasn't there to remind me."

"So you took one now?" The boy nodded. "Alright—just fix your shirt. It's on backwards."

The boy obeyed quietly and ate up the rest of his cereal in a hurry before Bruce even had the chance to sit down at the table. He was hoping to find out more about the '_nightmare_' but it looked like the subject was meant to be held for another occasion. Besides, Richard wasn't one to admit defeat easily. He'd probably pretend he didn't know what Bruce was talking about if he asked about last night.

So he sat there and ate alone, reading the newspaper in peace as he usually did—until, of course, something thudded loudly above and aroused his suspicions of broken objects. Richard really had to be careful when he was playing or Alfred just might kill him the next time he breaks something glass.

"Richard!" Bruce called, starting up the stairs in hope to catch the boy in his act before he could cover it up. "What are you doing, Dick?"

There was no answer and he quickened his pace. Perhaps the boy fell—or something fell on him.

He found himself at the door to Richard's room in no time flat and opened it quickly—coming in to see…no one…

"Richard?"

"Up here!"

He ran out onto the balcony and looked at the trees, expecting to see the boy somewhere up there. Instead…there was no one. It wasn't until he looked up at the roof that he saw his surrogate son sitting on the shingles with a book in hand. Something about forensic science…

"Jeez, Richard—what are you doing up there?"

Richard looked down innocently and shrugged. "Reading?"

"I thought I told you yesterday to stop climbing up onto the roof. What if you fell?"

No answer—good. There was no answer besides the fact that Richard would break every bone in that little body of his unless he died instantly.

That was an image he most certainly did not want to picture.

"Why not read in your room?" He suggested, watching as the boy slid down the shingles and flipped once before landing perfectly in front of Bruce. It scared him half to death sometimes when he did that.

"My room's haunted…" The boy answered simply, rubbing a sore eye. Bruce could tell by the shadows under the kid's eyes that he was still a heck of a lot more tired than he was trying to act. "Can't I stay outside?"

"Maybe after a nap, kiddo." He could tell by the look on Richard's face that he hated the napping idea. "You can sleep downstairs on the couch."

"No…" Richard muttered in a whisper. "I'm not tired."

"I'll watch you if you don't."

Richard made a face but tossed Bruce's book onto his bed and left to sleep in the living-room. The boy knew his father didn't lie, and that was just swell considering the fiery spirit he had. He was sure defiant when Bruce told him he couldn't be a crime fighter. He ended up as his side-kick in the end…

Bruce followed shortly after the boy, but stopped in the doorway to take one last look at the room before he closed the door. Was it just him, or did it seem a little chilly in there?...

-A-

Still like it? I was actually told to write this after my younger and older sisters bugged me into doing it. They kept cooing over how cute Robin was when he was a little guy. Guess they were right, because that's what I keep hearing from you guys.

Well, without distractions, I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm sick and I'm stuck home again tomorrow. Maybe I'll get chapter three done by then…

We'll see.

_Goodnight and sweet dreams,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	3. Chapter three: Nightmare number two

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Well, it seems as though the people of this world love the cute little Richard and you enjoy the plot. Seeing that all that is good, I think I'll be nice and write another chapter, although this one may come in a little late. My mom found out my little sister was writing too, but she doesn't like what she's writing in the least bit. To stop my little sister from writing—she's banned _me_ from writing. Am I going to listen? Heck No! But I will have to resort to writing in the closet again, so please excuse my tardiness.

Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't anything but the plot and maybe a few imaginary extras (people) in the background.

CHAPTER THREE: The Boogie Man

Crime fighting. Gosh—to think that one day he'd fight criminals to no end. He didn't know what must have sounded weirder to the public—the world's youngest acrobat, or the world's youngest crime fighter. Then again, they'd probably flip out even more if they ever discovered the two were one in the same.

Crime fighting was…a relaxing sport—or so he liked to call it. He took out all his frustration on whatever dope he could get his hands on, and it worked out to his advantage. Of course, Batman would tell not to fight through hate, but sometimes he over did himself and ended up fueling his strength with fury. Over the years he'd grow out of it, but until then—act like a kid and pretend you don't understand what he's telling you.

Worked for him…at least until the sky was bright enough to show off the soon-to-be rising sun. At about that time he was too tired to remember what hate was. He was actually stuck at a dilemma—he wanted to rest, but rest meant going home to the nightmares that scared the living-daylights out of him. Well…at least nightmares couldn't hit you across the back with a cane like the Riddler had done that night. He was going to feel the bruises from that for a good month and a half—if he was lucky.

Hands on his hips, Robin bent back a little to stretch out his sore back. Yes indeed—the Riddler made his mark. But at least no more villains would go roaming around for crime until nightfall. Now he could relax…

"Hi there, kid."

He jumped and nearly fell off the edge of the building. He was waiting for Batman who was rounding up the last of the Riddler's men in the alleyway below them, hoping not to fall asleep while he wanted for his surrogate father. Catwoman seemed to like early morning meetings now that the Dynamic Duo stayed out later than usual.

He pulled out a batarang and prepared to toss it her way, but the woman was not there for a fight. Instead, she stood before Robin and patted his head before messing up his hair in the most annoying way. He had to resist the urge to hurt her simply because Batman would probably want to speak with her.

"You're so cute." She cooed; mocking him the same way every woman in Gotham did. As long as she didn't say—"You look just like your dad. He must be keeping secrets."

He hated it when they said that.

"What does that mean?" He asked plainly. "What secrets?"

"That he's really your blood father."

Robin scowled, so sick and tired of hearing that exact same thing every time he went out with the man. "No he's not. Why do people think that?"

"Rumors."

"What rumors?"

She smiled wickedly and that was a clue that she was going to tell him something Bruce probably wouldn't want him to know. "That he met your mother one night and they sat aside from the others to have a little privacy…" She began. "They got drunk, had a go at it, and your mom ended up pregnant with you."

He paused, only understanding half of it. "What does it mean to _have-a-go-at-it_?"

"Well—"

"_You'll learn that when you're twenty."_

Both the criminal and the side-kick looked toward the other side of the building where Batman had gotten up with his grappling hook. He looked none too pleased with Catwoman's explanation and news of the so called _rumors_ circulating Gotham, and gave her the same scowl he gave the worst of the city's villains. She, on the other hand, grinned brighter and patted Robin on the head again before the boy stepped aside from being petted like an animal.

"It's the truth, ain't it?" She asked with an innocent air about her. "Look—get rid of the colourful costume and it would be hard to deny it. The kid can even frown like you."

"Let the propaganda think whatever it likes." He snapped, stepping up toward the two while he replaced the grappling hook to his belt. "As long as they stay out of my way, I don't care what they think."

She smiled. "With a cute kid like this, I'm sure you only say that to hide the truth. Tell me, do you _have-a-go-at-it_ with every woman you meet?"

"You can answer that question yourself." He muttered.

She frowned horribly and crossed her arms. "As I was saying…" She continued, turning back toward Robin. "It means that—"

"I didn't ask you to come discuss human anatomy with the boy." Batman muttered, face to face with her now, Robin at his side. "I came to ask about any new criminals in town."

"Business-like tonight aren't we…" For a moment there Robin worried that she was too upset to talk to Batman, but there was a look of mischief in her eyes…

"Maybe you two should _socialize_ on your own." Robin suggested, turning away toward the fire escape to leave. Batman placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him there while Catwoman giggled merrily.

"You are so adorable." She sighed, still laughing at the comment.

"We're not socializing." Batman cut in, giving Robin a small frown before returning his stern gaze to the cat burglar. "I want to know what's going on in this city. Last night—"

"Last night you put the baby bird to bed and came back to find him with nightmares?" She cut in, the smile growing on her face. She loved knowing what he was going to say before he even said it. "Better lock your house up tight tonight, Bats, because someone out there is looking to adopt."

"I'm not a baby bird…" Robin muttered, but with a small grin from Batman he could tell he deserved it for suggesting the two should _socialize_.

"How do you know about this?"

She waved her hand toward the city, staring off toward the lovely lights and humming sounds of the busy city. "Two kids went to the hospital—delirious from seeing the 'Boogie Man' entering their room in the dead of night. Not only that, but the children of the orphanage complained of seeing a scary man break into their rooms, trying to coax them to follow." Her gaze slowly turned and fell on Robin. "You're not afraid of the Boogie Man—are you?"

"No!" He fought back and clenched his fists tightly. He really wanted to fight her, but the hand on his shoulder tightened gently in comfort and he crossed his arms instead. She was just a woman—and women were just the older versions of silly girls.

Yuck.

"Any descriptions?"

"Nope." She shrugged, now standing on the ledge of the building. "The kids in the hospital are literally scared speechless and the children at the orphanage only saw the dark silhouette of a man. Neither could say anything besides that and the news thinks it's all some cruel game…but…" Her eyes drifted once more toward Robin, this time more serious and with a tinge of true worry. "What _game_ sends a child to the happy house?... Oh well—take care!" Then she smiled at the boy, just about to jump down from her perch. "And in nine or so years I'll _show_ you first-hand what it means to have-a-go-at-it."

Batman had the right mind to grab her then and possibly strangle her, but she was already free-falling toward the alleyway below. She landed in the manner of a cat and stood with feminine grace, walking off after blowing a kiss up at the two.

Robin shook his head. "Do I have to go to her to find out what it means, or are you going to tell me?"

Twitch…twitch…

"Ask Alfred when he gets back from England."

That didn't sound like a bad idea. Alfred told him a lot of things Bruce and other people refused to tell him. Maybe he could explain all that nonsense Catwoman was talking about. And why nine years? He'd be eighteen by then…

-B-

Arriving home was the same as the night before. Richard was tired enough that he walked into a wall once they changed and reached the main floor of Wayne Manor, but the child still somehow talked Bruce into letting him have a bath. He was bleeding on his back from the Riddler's cane and Bruce wanted to bandage it up. So, while Richard cleaned up in the washroom, Bruce laid down on the couch in the living room and waited for the boy to return to him. Despite his worry, he found himself drifting off to sleep…

—He was running after Richard who was…running after a woman. From seeing her face in the newspaper, Bruce knew at once that it was the boy's mother. She was calling to him and begging him to run away from Bruce who, although he was pleading with Richard to stop, found himself furious with the boy for believing such an apparition. Hadn't he taught the boy better? Hadn't he—

Maybe that's why he was running from him…

"Richard!" He called, but somehow he couldn't keep up with the boy. Richard, for once, was faster than him. On any average day, Bruce could catch the boy in the blink of an eye, but now…it was inhuman.

"Run, Robin—run! We're almost away from him!" The beautiful woman cried. She was glancing over her shoulder at her son with horror in her eyes. "He's gaining on you!"

"Mom—he's not mean!" The boy replied, stuck in a war between his past and present parents. "Mom—wait up!"

The woman, biting down on her lower lip, finally stopped and turned around just as Richard ran into her arms. She lifted him up and held him, resting on one hip, as she grinned wickedly toward Bruce. There was something dark and hollow about her, a shadow cast over her eyes as stared at him. Richard noticed this at once and began to panic.

"Who are you!" He shouted, struggling in her grasp as Bruce closed in on them. "Let go of me right now!"

The woman only laughed and began to melt away into a shiny black goop that takes Richard with it. The boy tried his best for freedom but found that his efforts in vain—even Bruce can't seem to get any closer no matter how fast his legs are moving. If anything at all, he's moving backwards—

"RICHARD!" He sat up and fell off the couch, hitting his right arm on the close coffee table. A sting of new pain shot through the limb, but he ignored it for now as he stood and ran a hand through his short dark hair. Richard was fine. He was just washing up…

Still slightly worried, Bruce made his way up to the second level and found himself wandering toward Richard's room. Much to his surprise, the door is wide open—something the boy hates when he's awake. Not only that, but the balcony window is open again and a chilly breeze blew viciously at the curtains.

To top it off, no one was asleep in the bed.

Horror-stricken, Bruce dashed out onto the balcony and gazed over the edge toward the ground. He looked up at the roof and even eyed the trees in hopes of seeing his son, but so far Richard is someplace else.

"AHHH!"

Bruce spun around so fast his head was spinning. Richard stood in the doorway to his room, his toothbrush in hand and his hair still wet. He had probably just gotten out of his bath and didn't quite expect to see another visitor. In the dark, the most he saw was Bruce's silhouette.

"Richard—it's me!" He tried to explain, taking a step forward. Richard back-stepped in reply and frowned.

"Bruce?" He asked quietly…and then frowned harder. "You're so mean!"

He sighed and leaned back against the railing as Richard entered his room, tossing his toothbrush onto his bed and stepping outside onto the balcony—

—Slamming the heel of his right foot down hard on Bruce's right foot. The man bit back a howl of pain and raised the foot to hold onto, another hand on the railing for support. All the while, Richard stood there with an annoyed look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Why did you do that?" Bruce asked in a stern voice, not about to show his weakness to a little boy who should respect him. "Since when did I hit you without reason."

"I had a reason!" Richard exclaimed, his small voice squeaking for a moment as he cleared it. Obviously he was the more frustrated of the two. "You know I was scared last night—and then you came in to scare me again! Why did you open the window! And why are you standing out here like it did! Now I really don't want to sleep in here tonight!"

Bruce allowed his tip lips to crack a small smile as he lowered his throbbing foot. Boy could the kid hit hard. "I'm sorry." He offered. "And I didn't open your balcony window."

"Lying!" The boy yelled, covering his ears with his hands and darted out into the hallway. "You don't like me—that's why!"

Children had the oddest logic.

Bruce rolled his eyes with a sigh and chased after his son with ease—_catching_ him this time unlike in his dream. As long as Richard was with him he could relax from worrying about that strange _thing_…whatever that goop was.

"Put me down!" Richard shouted in his ear, lifted up onto the man's hip as Bruce held him with a single arm. Richard might have been strong, but he wasn't as strong as Bruce and he was far too light to put up a good match. "I want to go to bed already!"

Bruce nodded, staring down the hallway toward Richard's room. The boy continued to struggle in hope for freedom, but Bruce barely even noticed. "I know, chum, but…maybe not in your room…"

The balcony door—Richard hadn't opened it and neither did Bruce. The last time he closed it he made sure it was locked tight and he knew no one else was in the house before the two came back from the eventful night. That meant someone had just entered, possibly a short while ago.

Richard gave up in his fit, too exhausted to keep up much longer. He rested his head on Bruce's shoulder and held onto his neck gently, frowning horribly in defeat. "Put me down…" He muttered, but Bruce continued to ignore him—lost in his thoughts and worries. The boy still hated to lose. "LET ME DOWN!"

"I think you're just cranky." Bruce laughed and started toward his own room. Robin could rest in his bed while he sat in the comforter chair in the corner. That way he could watch over the child whilst he slept. "It's time to sleep."

"I can walk on my own…" Richard growled, but talking to Bruce sometimes was like talking to a brick wall. Besides, Bruce was still fearful of losing Richard. He hated to admit it—but he was genuinely scared for his surrogate son…

Robin kept rambling on about something as they came to Bruce's room. He closed the door and locked it from the inside, tucking Richard into bed before sitting in the chair by the balcony corner. From here he could see everything in the room.

Was Richard speaking in French?

He just noticed the boy was still fuming around the time the child started to drift off. Then again, he did travel around the world. It wouldn't hurt to learn an extra language or two along the way…

"Goodnight, brick." Richard muttered before closing his eyes and curling up for sleep.

Bruce caught that last bit and frowned in confusion. "Brick?" He inquired, not quite understanding why he was granted that title. "My name's Bruce."

"But talking to you is like talking to a wall…" Richard yawned, and then he was out like a light, leaving Bruce to his thoughts…

Who was in the house?

More importantly—what did they want with the children?...

-A-

Ah, yes—another chapter. Well, I'll just leave you people to read and enjoy and I hope to hear something from you guys. My sisters think Robin's cute, but they want him cuter…Is that possible? What do you guys think? I haven't been a nine-year-old boy since…I was nine…That was seven years ago…Wow…now I feel old.

Sorry, I'm rambling on again.

Oh well—you get to see more of Catwoman—but **NO**, she will not be showing Robin first-hand what it means to have-a-go-at-it in this story. I just added that for humor, and my sisters seemed to be laughing hard enough at it.

Now—it's off to fight the Evil Number Two with my new ally—Number TEN! Ah…don't ask. I was teaching my little sister how to add and multiply and such…

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	4. Chapter four: The Joker

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Dick is cute enough so I think I'll keep him that way. As for calling Dick: Richard more times than I call him Dick that would be because my dear little sister keeps laughing when I call him that. Seeing that she is just a little kid too and the name implies something wrong to her, for her sake I call him Richard. And how do you get Dick from

Richard? Is that his middle name?...

DISCLAIMER: Don't own any of the characters or the places mentioned in the story…maybe an odd warehouse or such, but that's about it…

CHAPTER FOUR: The Joker

The Joker was someone who could handle a good joke, but preferred to be the jester more often than the one listening. His goal was just to make people laugh, so what was that so bad. Not to mention it would be a great success to make the Dark Knight crack even the most simplest of smiles. No. Only his side-kick smiled and he usually only did after they were finished winning. He'd like to show that kid a hard smile…let him lose for once…

That, supposedly, was why he listened to the unknown identity that freed him from prison. One moment he was locked up in Arkham—the next the police were taking him away to be question. And questioned for what, he asked. He'd been in jail for a while and all he had done was corrected by none other than the Dynamic Duo.

Left alone in the room for an overly long amount of time, curiousity got the better best of him and he tested the door. Much to his pleasant surprise, it was unlocked and no guards were posted around the door. The asylum was as dark as hell and he _literally _walked out of there, a free man. Of course, by time he was running someone had realized he was gone and sent for men to chase after him…but they never caught him. The Joker had successfully escaped.

Again.

Running through the alleys until he was too tired to continue going, he finally stopped for a breath and watched in the darkness of the night as a tall silhouette appeared at the mouth of the alleyway. That was when he was asked how it felt to be free.

He laughed. "Quite an odd question there, fella. You don't know?"

_We freed you. We have a proposal to offer you._

Talking as a group—a sign of sanity. He was starting to like this faceless guy. The voices in his head were getting to him too, eh…

"I'm up for a deal." He grinned, his eyes narrowing menacingly in the pale light of the full moon above them. He wanted to see how much gut this guy had. "To whom to I owe the pleasure?"

_We have no name. We have no time either for questions. If you do something for you—we will do something else for you._

"So this was just a small offering, eh?" He chuckled, referring to the freedom from Arkham. "You brought a smile to my face, so go ahead and name the game. I'm always up for a good laugh."

_Good. You know of Robin._

"The bird or the boy?"

_The boy._

"You want me to clip his wings?"

_No. We want you to bring him to us—alive and in one place. We assume you know his true identity?... Richard Grayson, son to Bruce Wayne._

"The Braidy Bunch, I see…" He placed a thoughtful finger on his chin and tapped it in consideration. If he took the bird from the nest he'd have one hell of an angry bat on his heels. Not that he was afraid of Batman, but the man had quite the dark side when vengeance was thick in the air. Then he grinned harder. "If I get you the boy, you kill the Bat. I trust you know who that nut-job is…"

_Yes we do know. You bring us the boy and we will take the life of your great enemy._

"Where do I deliver?"

_We will come to you for that matter._

"And why exactly can't you snatch the bird for yourself. He's a noisy brat, but he ain't that hard to grab."

_We have…restrictions—which are none of your concern. We kill the Bat—you bring the boy. That is our only business here tonight._

A rowdy guy, eh? Oh well, it wasn't the first time he was dealing with a secretive partner and this sure as heck wasn't going to ruin his night. He was free, he was handing over the brat to someone he hoped would torture, and the Bat would die. It all worked out for him.

"Toodles!" He called to the man before the dark silhouette started to stroll away. He had no mind to follow—nor did he need too. As long as he did his part of the job, all would be good.

Now—here was where the good part came in…

-R-

"You look like someone hit you in the face with a brick."

Bruce grumbled something he didn't catch, and so Richard shrugged it off as an embarrassed yes. He woke up that morning in Bruce's room seeing the man awake in the corner chair. It was his first guess that the man stayed awake all night like he had done some other times. It wasn't getting him any younger, so maybe he should have thought over pulling an all-nighter.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

Another grunt.

"Did you stay up all night?"

A third grunt.

"You're oh so conversational. Can I ever shut you up?"

Bruce glanced away from his newspaper at the dining room table and gave Richard an exasperated look. It was good that the kid had a rather large vocabulary—even though he drove Alfred nuts over pronunciation—but it was sure annoying at times.

"Eat your breakfast." Bruce ordered in yet another grumbled, stifling a yawn. Just to drive him bonkers, Richard yawned and that forced Bruce to do so as well. The man shot the boy a warning glance and the boy obeyed this time, finishing off his toast before resting his chin on his fists, his elbows on the table.

"Elbows off the table."

It was automatic.

"But Alfred always says that."

"Alfred taught me to say that."

"And what if he told you to jump off a bridge?"

"I'd bring my jump cord."

"And if he told you not to?"

"Eat your breakfast."

"I did."

He stared over the edge of his paper, sitting directly across from the boy, and eyed his plate. Straightening his paper, he continued to read. "Go wash up—and get your elbows off the table."

There was no shortening this guy's wire, but it would have been nice to see a better reaction out of the man. Back in the circus, Richard used to sometime pull tricks on the volunteer members who would do such things as take tickets or hand out food at the concession stands. Some of the younger performers would help him too, but the moment his parents found out what he was up to he was sent away to practice or ended up in another tutoring class to keep up educationally with children his age. He was a fast leaner and was quite smart, but he ignored making the right decisions when it came to playing a good joke.

Too bad he couldn't do much with Alfred or Bruce. Either would punish him to no end if he were ever caught, seeing that the two were always so serious about crime and its consequences.

Seeing that he wasn't going to get too far, Richard grabbed his plate and headed for the kitchen, placing it down on the counter when he was called back by Bruce.

"What is it?" He asked impatiently, sticking his head back into the dining room.

"It's the Joker. He escaped from Arkham and is now on his way toward the city bank."

In broad daylight?...Usually the villains of higher status, _such as_ the Joker, tended to pull off their stunts at night which worked more so to their advantage—even if they did always get caught by the Dynamic Duo. Unless the Joker wanted himself to be found in the blink of the eye, Richard couldn't think of any other reason why the sociopath would…

Oh—there was his answer. The Joker was a sociopath…It made a lot of sense when you thought about it that way…

"Time to go…" Bruce suggested as Richard lost himself in thought. They raced toward the cave to prepare. "I hope you're ready for a good fight."

"Actually, I was more worried about you.."

Bruce glanced over his shoulder toward the boy as they started down the stairs. "What makes you say that?"

"Besides or including the point that you look like the walking dead?"

-B-

Even he was slightly surprised that the Joker was attacking the bank in the middle of the day. What surprised him even more was the clean getaway he had from prison that wasn't reported in until the morning. Either the Joker was getting help, or he was improving in his game.

He certainly hoped it wasn't the latter of the two.

Sitting in the batmobile, Robin had just barely jumped inside before Batman took off. It was the old feud thing going on again and Robin could tell that as he rolled his eyes behind his mask and quickly buckled his seatbelt. Bruce would never get over trying to lock that guy up for good for as long as they both lived. It was the most stubborn history in history…

"It's odd…isn't it?" Robin asked, leaning an elbow against the side door as they zoomed through the city streets. "I mean, with the Joker stealing during the day. He's trying to get our attention."

"Yes. What worries you? We've stood up against him before."

"Yeah…" The boy admitted quietly, eyes on his hands. "But…he just got out of prison in the early morning. I thought it usually took longer to round enough men and supplies to do his tricks…you know…"

Robin was right—Batman had worried about such as well. He was glad the boy could pick that out himself, but now his brain was wracking away at what the Joker was planning. It couldn't be a quick kill job—that, as was pointed out, would take more time for planning—and it couldn't be a kidnapping heist to grab Robin and lure Batman into a trap, because—again—the Joker wouldn't have enough time to set up one of his _wonderful_ traps. The man took pride in what he did, and that meant there was no way the Joker was going to do a lousy job. He wanted his victory against Batman to go down in the book, along with every detail of how he ridded the world of the Dark Knight.

And he wasn't just stealing—that could have been done at night.

"Get ready." Batman warned, and Robin gave a quick nod. They were just a block away from the crime scene.

And a block away from disaster…

-A-

I think this is as good a place as any to leave you guys off at. I watched the black and white version of "The Night of the Living Dead"—and it's a hell of a lot creepier than a person would think. You might think it's corny—but they knew how to scare people back then! I hated the first Zombie…and boy was the ending terrible in the sad horrific way…That's partially why I wrote the next chapter out tonight, giving my little sister something else to focus on.

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	5. Chapter five: Smile

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Thanks for sticking with me people. I didn't expect to start with so many reviewers and then end up keeping them. This is just great for me and my lil' sis is as happy as ever because that means quick updates. Emily (my little sister) says thanks.

Well, enough of my talking. You came here to read, did you not?

DISCLAIMER: Ha—I wish!

CHAPTER FIVE: Smile

The bank was pretty close to full when the Joker attacked, but at least two thirds ignored the warning of being shot if they ran, and…well…they ran. Being in a good mood, the Joker told his men not to make any fatal shots just yet until Gotham's heroes dropped by, but the crowd of panicking people didn't know that. They all knelt where they once stood, hands on the back of their heads except for when one of the Joker's few men came over to them with a bag to collect wallets, jewelry—the usually stuff while he crammed a bomb in the back vault and blew it opened. Inviting himself in, he kept an ear opened for any unwanted visitors…

_Krinch!_

Sounded like a neck-breaker—it did. He wondered which of his poor unfortunate men was the one to take that blow.

Turning around and holding onto a long cane, he waited with a smile on his face as Batman strode toward him in threateningly quick strides. He was there in what seemed to be an instant, throwing a punch. It was blocked, but Batman was never one to give up easily. He delivered a side-kick which was only half defended by the cane, still knocking the Joker back a few steps, and all the while the Joker kept his usual grin.

He was just picturing the dead Bat. Seeing that he couldn't kill him on his own, this shadow guy had better deliver. Kidnapping someone was a cinch—it was killing the abnormal ones that proved tricky.

-R-

They ran when he told them too and the bank was nearly empty of civilians by time he had taken out three men. Batman was by the large vault fighting off the Joker and a couple of his larger blokes, still too good a match for the criminals. Sometimes even Robin wondered why they bothered aggravating the Dark Knight. This had had to have been the worst theft attempt the Joker had made all year. There _had_ to be something larger at work here.

"Brat!" One of the clown men growled, almost catching Robin off guard with a round-house punch to the head when he spared a glance Batman. It was dodged easily and Robin responded with a nice kick between the legs. The man doubled over and fell to his knees as a partner came up behind him with a long metal pipe. This he swung at Robin numerous times, each one missing until the eleventh or twelfth one which caught Robin in the ribs. He was sent flying to the side and hit a nearby wall, coughing as he gasped for air.

Damn…that really hurt.

"What's wrong, kid?" The bloke mocked, two other men standing behind him with the same Joker-ish grin. "Did I hit you too hard? Would you like me to try that one again?"

"Get over yourself." Robin muttered, rolling his eyes behind his mask as he pulled a batarang from his belt and tossed it at the first men. This one cut by his face, leaving a nice long slash in its place across his right cheek. It caught the man off-guard as he raised a hand instantly toward the wound and didn't have the time to avoid the kick aimed for his chest. It sent him reeling back, colliding with one of his two buddies. The other stood their like an idiot and watched his friends in flight, completely oblivious to Robin as he came up with a high back kick to his jaw. It barely made it to his chin, but it forced his head to snap back all the same, leaving the stomach exposed as Robin placed a second kick to the abdomen.

All three men were out of the way, groaning quietly as they bordered on the thin line to unconsciousness. It was strange thought. Robin swore there was more than three against him and—

_Crack!_

He felt that alright.

Falling to his knees, he sat back on his feet and rested his hands on the floor in front of him for support. The blow was a quick one to the back of his head with one of the bank chairs. Splinters and slivers of wood sprayed down around him and bounced off the floor in what seemed to be slow motion as his brain processed the information of taking a back blow to the skull. He saw white for a moment before it disappeared and was replaced with stars, a buzzing sound in his ears over the rest of the noises—which was laughing, by the way. The dope who hit him was laughing like he had won the war.

He was having trouble trying to figure out why he was still somehow conscious, barely realizing that someone's arm came across his waist and lifted him quickly. He choked from the lack of air when his back was pressed against the chest of his captor, and he blinked rapidly as he reminded himself that he had to free himself.

As sore as his head was, Robin rammed his head backward and caught the man in the nose, possibly breaking it as he was released. He fell to his feet and glanced instantly over his shoulder to deliver another one of his favorite back-kicks before giving himself a moment to clear his head. It was sore…but it was nothing new. He could see clearly again and even spared a grin as he looked over the large bloke he took down. He was a big guy…made him wonder how such a man could sneak up behind him.

"Maybe another time!" The Joker laughed hysterically, making a break for it as a chunk of the far wall was blown off, debris settling in a large cloud around it as he escaped. Batman tried to follow…but came back through the cloud empty handed. Poorly resourced he may have been, but the Joker was always good at escapes.

"You alright?"

Robin tried to nod, but thought better when he rubbed the back of his head. It hurt mostly from the small cut back there, and a bruise would probably form—nothing to worry about though. Robin had seen guys take fatal blows to the head, cracking open their skull or slashing it deep. He didn't have that and he was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was brain damage.

Batman eyed the KO'd men around him as sirens sounded outside, noticing the wood and the broken chair. "I see…" He grumbled and placed a hand on Robin's shoulder, turning him around. "Bend your head forward if you can."

Robin obeyed and waited for some horrible news. Thankfully, all he got was a, "We'd better clean that up when we get back, or Alfred will keep you from patrolling at night again for a week. Looks like a nasty one…"

Well, as long as it wasn't life threatening…

Robin sighed and cracked out his neck, following Batman back outside toward the batmobile. Once he was inside he started to think again, ending up asking the same questions he asked Bruce on the way there. Why was the Joker doing it so soon? What was the plan behind it? Why didn't he gather more men before tackling the bank?

It wasn't like he was a newbie at crime.

"We'll find out." Batman assured him—the only answer Robin could get out of him. "Don't worry. The Joker isn't exactly new to us."

True…but he still worried.

---

This was unacceptable and _they_ did not like that. But they were lenient—they could give a second chance. After all, they had only asked the one called the Joker to capture the child that night. They could give him more time and perhaps then his plans would have been better—though they had to admit the blow to the head was a little too much. If anything were to happen to the boy, the Joker would pay…

They waited patiently and watched over the boy and his surrogate father. Let them be together—

—their time would be short spent.

-B-

The wound was bloody, but it wasn't serious. Anything worse and Bruce would have strangled the guy who gave it to Richard. Who the heck took a chair and smashed it off a kid's head, for goodness sake! Richard barely looked his age he was so small—no wonder that guy was a criminal. Who in their right mind would try such a thing?

He must have been muttering while he spoke, seeing that Richard kept giving him these odd looks. He was used to being alone, Alfred never bothering him while he muttered, and so he really forgot he was muttering at all. Well, it must have been annoying the hell out of Richard because the kid wouldn't stop staring.

"What?"

Richard shrugged. "You keep talking, but I can't hear you. It's driving me nuts."

Bruce shrugged, finishing with the bandage that he wrapped around Richard's head. Then he pointed toward the stairs from where he sat in the living room. "Go get some sleep." He ordered in concern for the boy. Richard started to protest, but Bruce silenced him a look of warning. "If you don't sleep now, then I'll make sure you rest while I go out on patrol _alone_ tonight."

Richard, sore with defeat, nodded without another word and made his way toward the stairs for his room. Bruce went in the Batcave then to research up information on the new villain in town. He supposedly only came out at night and was granted the infamous title of 'The Boogie Man' by the children who had seen him and the news that portrayed him as a shadow man. Five children, all below the teenaged years, were kidnapped since last night, no trace left to as where they were. There was no sign of a struggle at the homes of the children, and there was no evidence to suggest there had even been a kidnapping. No fingerprints—nothing.

The new guy was good.

Now he was worrying profoundly. It was still day…but he began to wonder if Richard was safe upstairs on his own. Maybe he should have told him to stay in the cave with him. At least then Bruce could keep an eye on him.

Sighing to himself, he opened one last file. He'd go up there to get him in just a sec…

-R-

He hated having to sleep during the day, but there wasn't much he could do if he wanted to go patrolling during the night. As sore as the back of his head was, he still had the need for action and nothing was going to stop him…besides Bruce. He had to listen to Bruce no matter what, and even Alfred—who thought up the worst punishments in the world. No kid knew what the word 'dusting' meant until they had to help clean a whole mansion.

Closing his door behind him, he ran toward his bed and went soaring onto it, flipping over in the air so he landed on his back, head hanging over the edge. He stared at the door for the longest of times, wondering if he could get away with spending his time on the roof rather than sleeping. But Bruce would come to check on him. Not only would he be angry he wasn't asleep, but he'd shoot a rocket through the roof if he found out he was on the roof again.

Sighing, he sat up and moved toward the pillows, lying down properly on his side. He faced the balcony window which was opened earlier by himself, watching the curtains as they moved with the warm summer breeze. That man had only come in the dark of night…but still—a kid did worry. Nightmares had the hardest impression on the human mind, and Richard knew he wasn't going to forget about it any time soon. Whatever that thing was, he really wanted to believe it was _just_ a figment of his imagination.

Yawning, he had to admit that he was tired, Closing his eyes and ignoring the pain from the back of his head, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep. It began to work, and when he was in the trance-like state between sleeping and waking…he heard something…

Eyelids heavy, he really didn't want to open them now that he had convinced himself to sleep. So, listening to kid theory, he waited to see if he heard it again before waking. Sure enough, there was another thump—this one louder, like something heavy-built had hit the ground on his balcony.

Dizzy, he half-opened his eyes, keeping them close enough to shut to hide the fact that he was awake. Due to this he could only see faint silhouettes and blurry colours, but what came in past the curtains was certainly colourful—none at all in the happy way.

Clowns?

Darn—it was the Joker's men.

Patiently, trying to control his thumping heart, he waited until the larger of the two men came closer to the bed and grabbed his shoulder—then he sat up and thrust his fist into the guy's face. Howling in pain, the man backed up and held his bloody nose, swearing beneath his breath as his partner gave a short laugh.

"Told you not to touch him." The smaller man shot with a wicked grin. "Are you stupid—don't you remember that the kid knows how to fight."

Back to Richard, the boy slid off the bed and planted a hard kick to the small of his back. The man bent backwards at the point and fell forward toward his buddy, both of them cursing now.

The laughter dead, Richard bolted for the door and grabbed the doorknob, turning it quickly and planning to make a break for the stairs—

—when he ran into a woman.

"Hey there, sweetie. It ain't nice to run into people like that."

Harlequin!

Richard prepared his fist to hit the woman—despite the fact she _was_ a woman—but it was caught behind his head when he wound up for the blow. The man with the bloody nose grabbed him from behind and lifted him up as he kicked and tried to scream, a gag fit into his mouth quickly by the other man.

"Darn brat." The tall brute muttered, and Richard suddenly recognized him as the one from the bank—the man who smashed the chair over his head. How the Joker ever found out about his identity, he would never know—nor did he want to know what was going to happen to him now.

Harlequin, smiling as she walked into the room, closed it gently behind herself as something sounded downstairs. "Sounds like your pops is come'n to see you." She giggled quietly, motioning the two blokes toward the window. "Come on, boys—Mr. J. is wait'n."

A tight arm across his waist and a gag in his mouth, Richard couldn't scream loud enough for anyone to hear him. The last thing he remembered before another cloth covered his face, this one soaked with chloroform, was Harlequin tossing a Joker card onto his bed as he was brought out onto the balcony…vision fading fast…

-A-

I'm sorry if this took longer than usual to update. My little sister and I made a deal—I don't update if she doesn't finish yet another set of math homework. The hardships of teaching an eight-year-old math…I never knew it was so hard to explain. Oh well, as long as she passes, I'm good. You've got to love little kids. Speaking of which, woe is our poor little Robin. Who knows what horrors await him next…not to mention the Boogie Man is on the loose…

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	6. Chapter six: Bred leaders

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Harley Quinn is Joker's…female assistant, his second-in-command—or—as many people say it—his _girl_. That's where my mistake came in—I called her Harlequin which is the Joker's daughter way off into the series—and she becomes a hero instead of a bad guy. Sorry, Harlequin.

DISCLAIMER: Nope—I take no claim over the characters or the places…and all that jazz.

CHAPTER SIX: Bred leaders

With a yawn, Bruce cracked his neck out as he started up the stairs to check on Richard. Even though the child was told to sleep, he still persisted on disobeying in the slightest ways. It had been too quiet—until he heard a couple of heavy thuds. Richard was up to something and, for the boy's sake, Bruce hoped he wasn't back on the roof again.

"Richard!" He called out, reached for the doorknob. Turning it, he stepped inside and looked around. The balcony window was opened like it had been before and the bed sheets were ruffled up, signifying that Richard had indeed listened to him in the first place to take a rest. But he wasn't in the room, so that only left the roof.

He strode across the room toward the balcony—but stopped when a colourful card caught the corner of his eye. Suddenly turning, he headed for the bad and looked down at the card before picking up.

He didn't have to inspect this to figure out who had paid a visit.

Crushing the card in his hand, Bruce made a promise. He was going to kill the Joker if it was the last thing he ever did…

-R-

Getting knocked out was one thing. If you accidentally KO'd yourself, you'd wake up, stand, and go somewhere to find help. When you were knocked out _and_ kidnapped, the situation was changed entirely. If he had been awake when it happened, he could have at least watched where they had taken him or made a few attempts to escape. When you were unconscious, the cards remained solely in your opponent's deck and that was no fun at all—especially when you were a kid who hated to lose.

As he expected, he was in a dark room when he woke, sitting on a chair with his hands tied behind the back of it. He wasn't gagged or blindfolded which meant he was probably in some abandoned warehouse where no one ever ventured unless they were A) stupid; or B) a villain looking for a hideout. Seeing that as the case, Richard kept his mouth shut. No one was going to hear him in this joint.

"Darn brat." Someone muttered, muffled by a wall. Ahead of Dick was a door, light streaming inside the room from the crack beneath it. The man who spoke was the one that had the broken nose, compliments of Robin—the Boy Wonder. Even though he was captured, he felt somewhat satisfied for the trouble. "Can't I just rough him up a little?"

"Mr. J. says not a hair and so not a hair is gonna be touched. " Harley snapped from the same room. "Go anywhere near him and I'll break that thick neck of yours."

"I'd like to see you try—OUCH! Okay—I understand!"

"Good. Smiley, go check up on the kid. See if he's awake yet."

There was a quick yes and the doorknob started to rattle. It was opened instantly and the short silhouette of the first man's partner stood in the doorway, feeling along the wall for the light switch.

Richard rolled his eyes. The light turned on by the string hanging from it.

"Look up, moron."

The man paused, probably not expecting a word from Richard yet. Sure enough, he reached up and caught the string, pulling on it to flood the room with an eerie yellow light. It wasn't even that bright, but Richard could now make out the clown-clad man before him. He was short—but he had buff and Richard was surprised that the man was scared of Harley. Then again, the woman did have a mighty hard swing when you got on her bad side.

"Look who decided to wake up." The brute chuckled—not the happy kind of chuckle either. "Bird brains finally decided to join us."

Harley slid past the man into the room, dressed more like a jester to compliment the Joker's gang. She smacked the man on the back of the head and he retreated into the other room. She was in no mood today for shot remarks…Richard wondered why.

And where was the Joker?

"Hey there, birdie." Harley smiled, leaning against the wall by the door. "How ya do'in?"

"Why am I here?" He asked at once. How did they know he was Robin—they had to know. They kept calling him the same bird names they called him when he fought. But who told them?

"Because another bird told us you were Robin and they seemed to be look'n awfully hard for ya, sweetie." She kicked the door shut and crossed her arms, grinning in a relaxed manner. "I wonder what ya did."

"I did nothing."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did not."

"Did too." Then he paused. "Wait…I so didn't do anything."

She shrugged, still grinning mischievously. "Maybe…maybe not. Well…probably something 'cause this no-face man wants you alive and in one piece. I think it's that guy going around kidnapping kids."

That's right…Catwoman was talking about the other night. It was about the Boogie Man, or something along the lines of that…but why did he—or it…whatever it was—want with children? If he was going to kill them, why kidnap them first…unless he enjoyed torturing them…And why would he try so hard to kidnap Richard? Even Bruce was looking a little edgy ever since the first night Richard saw that apparition on his balcony.

"The no-face man?" He asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Mr. J's the only one who's seen him, and he says the guy ain't got no face…" She looked a little upset at this fact but tossed her uncertainty aside hastily. She trusted her boss, but not this new villain. "But you can ask all those questions yourself when he comes to here to get ya….You're not afraid of the Boogie Man, are you?..."

He ignored her snickering and tried hard to keep from exploding on her. Instead, he kept a stoic face like his mentor and answered softly. "What I had to fear is already gone. It's happened to me and I've gotten along just well."

"Eh?" This was answered with absolute curiousity from the woman, almost as though she was hearing a good riddle. "Death? I know you've almost died a couple of times up against some of our boys, but still…Tell me—what have you gotten over?"

"The fear of losing someone you love forever."

Instead of a witty comeback, she actually respected him in a small sense. Whether it was because she had a soft spot for kids or the fact that she had been in his shoes, he didn't know, but she kept her mouth shut about it and opened the door.

"Sleep while you can." She whispered before reaching to turn off the light. "The Boogie Man keeps little boys awake all night with nasty dreams…"

-BM-

_They_ had waited a long to start their plan—the plan to control the future of the world. The world itself was corrupting on its own, but _they _wanted to head that all—_they_ wanted to make sure everything happened to their great advantage. It took only a short while to figure out how they would do it too, how they would take the future into their own hands…

…All the little children…

But wasn't it true? The children were the future of the world, and if you dominated them then you would have control of all the people—all their offspring and descendants for as long as humanity roamed the earth. _They_ could choose the leaders, keep the followers in place, and work the world from behind the curtain while their orders were whispered into the ears of the mighty… Humanity wouldn't even know it was being controlled until it reached its extinction—maybe not even ever! Humanity was so simply to manipulate, it was truly amazing how they reached the top of to the food chain…

First, they needed to take control of those who they would make leaders. But before even that happened, they had to find potential leaders…

And what a better place to look than the good old city of Gotham, a place that actually needed a hero to keep it from descending into hell? Good leaders were born there, tough men and women who knew manipulation and used others for their benefits. Gotham bred good, strong, smart children—and even if a child was below the others it didn't matter. Those weaklings always died in the end either by their own hand or the bullet from the gun aimed at their head, so what did _they_ care about the lower humans? All they wanted were the strong.

Needless to say, out of fear of choosing a weakling, they left no doors closed, no window shut tight. Shadows were what they were made of and nightmares made them strong, their fuel and their power to control the minds of whoever they wanted. It was difficult at times…and that's how they determined who was strong. They went to the orphanages and settled in the children's heads, the ones who woke deemed strong. They even went to homes of the rich and the political, waking quite a few boys and girls there, but never enough to actually make them move to check for creatures lurking in the darkness. From that they concluded that the type of children who would be the best to lead were those who had lived troubles lives, those who struggled through vengeance or sorrow…or whatever haunted those marvelous little minds…

Actually, they almost forgot about the Boy Wonder.

They heard about the caped crusader and something about the Dynamic Duo—a side kick named Robin making up the second half of the team. They didn't realize that "Robin" was really a small boy who barely looked like he ate a thing. But his grace and skill was magnificent, his agile moves and the strength he put into every blow absolutely astounding—it was hard to imagine the boy as a child! And what a mind…strategy and clever wits was all this boy was about. They even went so far as to peek into his mind and were shocked to see how much the boy knew. He knew criminology, psychology, inscriptions and forensics—he knew how well the mind worked and how to understand even the oddest of behaviors. There was no doubt his mentor, the Batman, had taught him this, but the drive and morals came from a dark past.

Richard Grayson…the acrobatic, and only, child to the Flying Graysons—trapeze artists of the world…both dead…

That was all they needed to know.

They followed the two back to a mansion outside of town—the Wayne Manor where the boy and his surrogate father—who they now knew was Batman—lived in silence to hide their heroic identities. That night they called to him in his sleep and he defied them—the first to defy them. If he wasn't perfect already, this tipped the scales. The boy knew what was real and what was not and would not be likely manipulated by others of his grand kind. This was a leader and it didn't matter how much he resisted…he was before puberty and that meant he was well within the range of _their_ grasp…

They chilled him up a couple more times, but the one he called his father liked to intercede more than what they would usually permitted. They never touched the mind of the elder—not only was he untouchable, but they wanted to drown his suspicions. But the first time they came to the boy and the boy, Richard, cried out in the night, that hero in the shadows came running to his aid and held the boy close through-out the rest of the silent darkness. This was just horrible—just horrible. With the boy feeling secure from the love of his guardian, that love blocked his mind out from all intruders to a degree. The only other time they did slip in, all they found was the shadow of a bat blocking the path.

A shadow defying those made of shadows…how peculiar…

Then the man had a nightmare on his own, the time when the shadows we waiting for the boy to return to his room. The man stormed in and stood on the balcony, spoiling all hopes of grabbing the child. He even went so far as to keep the boy from his room, taking him to his own where his watchful eyes would guard the boy.

That was why someone tangible had to be called forth and who better to choose than the enemy of the enemy?

The Joker.

He did his job well and they watched as the child was taken. They weren't too happy with the fight the boy had against a taller man, but perhaps they would kill the fool later. Tonight, when they themselves were tangible, they would take the child and pay their end of the deal.

The robin was captured and soon to be tamed, while the bat flew from its perch for ultimately the last time…

…ultimately the last time…

-A-

Odd ending saying—I know, forgive me if it sounded so corny. I also had to explain a little about the Boogie Man (or is it Men?) so you could understand how things are going to end and all…Sorry it took me so long to update. I had this saved on a computer key which I lost and then just recently found. That and the server was down again on fanfic. So sorry…

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	7. Chapter seven: Going down

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Hello, now that the Not Again sequel is finished, I have more time to work on this and Blast, though John (my cousin—Victor Van Heiring) has been pestering me to continue that story. But even if I do, I won't until I catch up with this one. I'm not going to say it'll turn out as long as forty-some chapters, but I'll speed up to something exciting and then place my bets on who holds on the longest. I do so love my job…

DISCLAIMER: Now, why would you think such a silly thing as that…

CHAPTER SEVEN: Going down…

Richard must have fallen asleep sometime after Harley left him in the dark because he woke with a jolt and realized he was alone…Of course he had been left alone in the room, but the light on the other side of the door was off and not a sound was made. The Joker probably moved his men out, not wanting this so-called Boogie Man to know where he was hiding all his men and stolen objects.

It was eerie in the dark—not that Richard had ever been afraid of the dark—but right now he had to admit he was…frightened…to a degree. He wasn't so afraid that he'd start to cry or fall into a panic attack, but he couldn't help but imagine a hand reaching out to grab him.

To his displeasure, one did.

He stifled a gasp and leaned back in his chair as the hand came for his face…but it stopped and hovered an inch away from touching his forehead. Then it slowly drew back and silence ensued in the now-cold room. Richard could almost see his breath, and that would explain why the hand was dark of flesh rather than peachy white or a warm brown. It was black…and, maybe it was because of the lack of light, it almost could have been a deep-sea blue…

"Who's there?" Richard whispered, hoping that _it_ didn't do that again. It wasn't fun when things just suddenly popped out at you, even though villains seemed to like doing that.

_Hush-hush. No fear. Why shiver when all we want to offer is warmth?_

Richard shook his head slowly—first because he was trying to convince himself that that voice wasn't real, but then he shook it harder as though he were disagreeing with the voice. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, from the back of his mind and the dark corners of the room…and it had no echo though it sounded as though more than one person was speaking to him at once.

"Where are you?" He asked this time, keeping his voice soft and low in an attempt to show he wasn't afraid. "Why are you hiding?"

_Hiding?...No. No, little one, we do not hide for we have nothing to fear. And you know where we are…We are all around…_

Richard licked his lips while turning his head as far as his neck could permit in each direction, searching in the deep darkness for the source of the voice. From what he could tell, no one was there unless they were standing directly behind him.

_We mean you no harm. We are only here to…speak with you…to find out about your mentor. Who is he, dear boy, and what sorrows him?_

Good question…as and Richard thought about the answers involuntary, something cold touched the back of his head and that forced him to jerk it forward. But it wasn't touching the flesh…it felt more like it was on the inside.

Batman. He is weak for his protection of those he loves.

Did he just think that out loud?

_So…he will come after you if he knew where you were—if he thought you were in danger?_

"Why do you want to know?" He snapped, wriggling in the ropes binding him to the chair. " Why do you want to know how to hurt him."

_Death, little one…the eternal sleep—the ultimate serenity and sense of tranquility. Has he not suffered? Has he not lost his parents?_

Either it was reading his mind or it got it out of someone else. Certainly not Alfred, and not Bruce himself…then who?...

Richard.

Now he felt horrible. It wasn't something he was used to and he usually didn't mean the trouble he caused, but his heart went out right then and there when he realized this thing was really reading his thoughts. He was betraying Bruce…the only person he had met so far in his life that he could relate to…

"I lost my parents too. What does that make me to you?"

_Valuable._

"Valuable?..." Somehow the answer failed to make sense in his mind. "Why?"

_Two things—first, because we need you for something great, and secondly…we need you to kill the Bat._

Whatever this thing was, it was on the ball. Richard seriously doubted he could stand much of a chance up against this thing if it was going to read all the information out of his mind. But he could try and plan something…and the most logical things to do would be to either escape—which was unlikely possible at the moment—or warn Bruce…

-BM-

The boy was silent, but his mind was racing. Subconscious thoughts screamed out and echoed in the room, everything they needed to know to keep their end of the deal to the Joker. They could have just double-crossed the man, but they kept their promises. They were fair…to a degree…

'_He's coming—always comes—night—screaming—'_

Screaming? The Bat comes for the victims in pain and agony, those who fear for their lives or that of others. That was his weakness—and it was going to be his downfall.

Part of _them_ stayed as the shadows in the room, listening and speaking with the boy while reading his mind wile the other half was lurking outside. He was coming…they could see him on the rooftops, a dark figure that could have been a shadow as well, falling and gliding, leaping and running—no wonder this hero brought fear to the hearts of many. All they had to do was call him toward them…lure him into the building…

The second half inside the building could see what the others saw, formulating a plan at once. They formed into a man—the man that the Joker first saw—and stood behind the boy. Hands reaching around, the boy gasped when he saw two dark hands cover his eyes.

Then they were inside his mind.

They saw everything they did before, very few new thoughts revealed to them, but they weren't there for more memory snatching. No. Instead they worked their way around the mind and saw what they need. With a slight chill, they got exactly what they wanted from the child.

A scream.

-B-

He had heard people screaming, but the worst was to hear a child scream. Now, when they screamed out of fear was one thing-but this was from pure agony. For all he knew the kid could be dying.

Probably was…and he couldn't shake the thought that it sounded a heck of a lot like Richard.

Swooping down from the building top with the help of his grappling hook, he landed on the cold pavement and broke into a made dash toward the abandoned warehouse. It was always a warehouse—every villain used them.

When he found the Joker he was going to strangle the man.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he came to a door left opened adjacent due to the broken hinges. It was dark inside, but the moonlight streaming in revealed that no one was there…

Another scream.

The worst sound in the world.

Breath caught in his chest, he ran again and raced through the warehouse in search of his ward. He came to a set of doors along one wall, offices when the building when it was in use.

The third scream, followed by a sob.

He reached for the center door and kicked it open—

Richard sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair. The moonlight from the center room streamed in behind Bruce and revealed the boy's pale skin, his head hanging forward to hide his weeping face. It was a soft sound…so different from the scream.

"Hold on." Bruce said and strode forward, kneeling behind Richard and loosening the ropes cutting into his wrists. Whatever had made him scream was gone…unless it was something psychological…

"Don't!" Richard yelled, and Bruce first thought he was talking to someone else. Really, he was talking to his mentor. "Go! It's—"

"A trap?" He finished, already prepared for the worst. As soon as he had Richard untied, the boy spun around and grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the door.

_And where are you going?_

Richard froze. Bruce froze…what the hell was that. It was a voice but…it didn't _sound_ like a voice. It was rather a figment of the imagination if anything at all.

"Who are you!" Bruce demanded, his voice changing to the dark tone of voice he used on criminals. There was no way he was going to let some punk get the best of him after what happened to Richard…and that reminded him to look for the Joker later on…

_Gehenna…and you, I presume, are Bruce Wayne—supposed father to this child?_

How…

Bruce nodded his head toward the door, an indicator to Richard that he should run and leave this battle to Batman. But the boy seemed frozen to the spot. His face was paler and almost…sad…more so emotionless. But he appeared to be quite tired, possibly not even noticing what Bruce was trying to tell him.

"Run." He whispered, but Richard shook his head.

What!

_He will not leave if we don't want him to. He is kept here by our will, and his own will be overpowered by ours. Speak to him all you want—he won't obey. Perhaps…you should say goodbye for the very last time._

A hand reached out in the dark, something dark blue in skin. It came for his throat from the shadows alongside the door, a figure stepping up behind the mute boy lost in a trance. There was a man who wore a black suit, but had no face, blue skin everywhere that was visible. His own hair was ebony black and if he had eyes, Bruce would have expected the same—the atmosphere around the man was absolutely chilly.

The hand closed around his throat before he could react, the man lifting him off the ground with ease to watch him dangle from an uncomfortable height. The no-face man placed his other hand possessively on Richard's shoulder as the boy watched his mentor helplessly. A shiver ran along the child's spine visibly and one followed along Bruce's, a chilling moment indeed.

Black dots danced across his vision as it began to darken, kicking and struggling to free himself from the iron grip. His lungs began to ache and he wished for nothing more than to release the breath caught in his chest as he choked. But somehow he was saved.

"No! Bruce!"

The hand didn't release—it simply disappeared, leaving Bruce to fall to the ground. He couldn't stand right away, caught on his knees as he gasped for air and tried to clear his head of the dizzy spill. But he did see the hand on Richard's shoulder reached down to grab him around the waist, lifting the boy so his feet brushed the ground as he was carried away.

"No!" The boy screamed, thrashing about as his mind began to clear. "Leave me alone!"

'_No…'_ Bruce thought; agreeing with the boy and struggling to make it to his feet. _'You're not taking him. You're not taking my son from me…'_

-A-

Okay…so this thickens…and, at the same time, thins out. If you don't understand what I'm saying, that's okay—I don't know either.

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	8. Chapter eight: The others

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Well, here we are again. I've finally knocked my head against the wall enough times and hunkered down to continue the story. I never had any intentions of quitting on this one, but I seemed to run into one too many locked doors to get the gears on this turning again. I'm sorry for the long wait and I promise that you will see the end of this story, even if it kills me…but hopefully not…

CHAPTER EIGHT: The others

Having you head feeling like someone cracked it opened with a sledge hammer wasn't the happiest of feelings. Not only that, but when you were bouncing up and down it only added to the pain factor and made you wish you were still somehow unconscious.

The arm around his waist tightened when Richard began to struggle again. He faintly remembered seeing Bruce free him and then that no-face man come up behind him to strangle the man. Richard felt…heavy then, like every fiber of his being weighed as much as lead. Then there was that pulling force on his mind like something was tearing it open, digging deep inside and then stuffing it all back in.

Worst feeling in the world.

He remembered that happening, strangely, in a nightmare a while back when he just started out as Batman's side-kick. His major fear back then was being left alone again, and that meant he didn't want his new guardian getting beaten to a bloody pulp. He had a nightmare where Bruce was being strangled by an un-seen man and then that horrible dream came true just a short while ago. The only thing that stopped the real no-face man from continuing was the fact that Richard somehow broke free of the hold he had over him. He wanted to wake up from the nightmare…and he, sort of, did.

"Let…go…" Richard growled through gritted teeth, prying at the fingers of the man gripping at his hip. The man—or whatever it was—didn't pay him any mind, continuing down the dark halls at break-neck speed. At one point Richard could faintly see Bruce chasing after them but the no-face man was faster and knew the place better, twisting and turning around any corner that came into sight simply to get away from the Bat.

"I said—LET GO!" Richard screamed this time, squirming in the man's grip. "Let me go you—"

_Quiet child!_

He wasn't sure where the voice came from but it seemed to be the same as the last time he heard him talk—everywhere and nowhere, in his mind and in his air both at the exact same time.

"Where are you taking me?"

…_To the Others._

And who exactly were the others?

His struggle never ceased but no-face man soon began to slow, turning one last corner before he came to a door. This he opened and tossed Richard inside, slamming the door shut before the boy could get to his feet. There was the click of a lock on the door and then Richard knew he must have been alone again.

In the darkness of the room he simply fell to his knees and sat back on his feet, staring at nothing in particular as he tried to think of a way out of his predicament. Nothing was coming up…nothing would ever come up. He had no idea where he was or what that thing wanted to do with him, but the no-face man seemed to be everywhere at once. He'd have to out-smart him first if he wanted to get going anywhere and that sounded close enough to impossible.

A tear rolled down his left cheek and he wiped it away quietly, sniffling as he held back the rest of his tears. He just wanted to be back home again…he just wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Don't cry, buddy. They leave us alone for a long time unless we do something stupid."

He didn't know what surprised him more—the fact that he wasn't alone or the fact that he was with someone real, not a no-face ventriloquist. In the dark

In the dark his eyes began to adjust, picking out fourteen other people with him, all sitting and leaning against the walls with their backs. They were no bigger than him, save for one or two who could have been at least two or three years older. They were other kids…just like him.

"What are you guys doing here?" He asked quietly, eyeing each person. He couldn't make out details but it appeared as though the group was divided equally between genders and ages. There were three really little kids, maybe no older than four and they were huddled together next to one of the older girls.

One of the figures crawled forward and grabbed his arm gently just to let him know where he was, sitting next to him in the center of the room. "We're just normal kids."

"How long have you been here?"

"Only tonight." One small girl squeaked from the far corner of the room. "At least…I've been."

"I think we all have been here only tonight. 'cept I came right after the sun set. I was one of the first." The boy next to him sighed. He was older, twelve or so years in age.

Alright…so he wasn't alone in this. That was…a little comforting. But that meant no 'Robin' stunts unless he was willing to reveal his identity to fourteen other children. Well, maybe they wouldn't tell anyone…or maybe they wouldn't see him. It was pretty dark in the room, even through-out the rest of the building it wasn't exactly bright enough to tell details.

"So…do you guys have any idea how to get out of here?"

"…No…" The boy muttered in defeat. "We broke the first lock on the door and split up in the halls but there're a lot of those creepy looking dudes in this place."

He nodded in understanding. That guy…didn't seem human, especially without a face. He was…a part of the shadows, and there was no doubt his 'partners' (whoever and wherever they were) were exactly alike to him.

"Then…we need to find a way out of this room that leads directly outside." Richard answered, standing and taking careful steps over to the wall, watching as not to step on anyone. "We need…hey—what's that?"

It looked like a large square grate on the wall near the ceiling.

"I think that's the old ventilation system." The boy replied and Richard grinned. "You're not…seriously thinking that we can that? That thing has got to be older than my dad!"

"And who is your dad?"

"Huh? Why is that important?"

Richard rolled his eyes. "Hello—don't you wonder why you were taken."

"Oh…my dad is the new head psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum. We just moved to Gotham a month or so ago."

"Okay…" He knelt down and patted one of the girls on the shoulder. "And what does your mum and dad do?"

She sniffled, obviously crying. "They're lawyers…"

"Anybody with a parent politic?"

"Yes…" Two of the younger boys replied quietly.

"What, they're holding us for ransom?" The first, older boy asked, now standing beside Richard.

"I…don't think so. I think they're other more important people out there worth a lot more than a bunch of kids. Who's the oldest kid in this room?"

"That would be me." The same boy answered. "And my name's Tom. What's yours? You seem…pretty smart for a shorty."

He resented being called a shorty, but he gave Tom an answer anyway. "My name…is Eric."

The boy patted him on the shoulder heartily, almost as though it eased the tension knowing each other's names. "So, what's your plan, Eric?"

"The ventilation system. Now, all I need is to find something sharp and sit on your shoulders…"

-B-

It was incredible how a supposed fictional monster could run so fast. He lost track of Richard after the first couple of twist and turns in the hallways. The factory part of the building attached to an office building next door, the perfect place to hide someone. He had no idea where to start looking for his son…

His work ended up with no reward in the end anyway. He must have searched for two hours before he finally admitted he needed a break. There was no sign of Richard or the no-face man and he knew he wasn't going to get far running around in circles. So, with nothing else left to do, he returned to the factory side and decided to search for clues instead. Maybe he could figure out why this 'whatever' wanted his son.

-A-

I know it's short, but I have to get going to taekwondo and I won't be able to get back on the computer for a while. So, I hope you liked what I had to give, and please don't be upset that it took me so long to update. I'm trying to manage all my stories and anyone who knows me good enough knows how many stories that is…

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	9. Chapter nine: A hero in making

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

Shara Shima is being mean to me and I suppose she might consider updating sooner rather than later if I get back to updating too. I'm sorry guys. I just started school last Thursday and I got another puppy on the weekend…such a silly little girl. She made me want to write another chapter to my No Secrets story, but I guess that'll have to wait until I finish writing this chapter—But thanks to all of you who are patient with me. Have a wonderful school year and good luck with your studies. I hope you continue to find the time (and motivation) to continue working on your own stories. I look forward to your updates.

CHAPTER NINE: A hero in making

"You're light for an eight year old."

"_Nine_ year old, thank you very much."

"Sorry…" Tom tilted his head as far back as he could to stare at Richard's handy-work, watching as the boy sat quietly on his shoulders, a discarded piece of glass they found on the floor in his hands. Carefully he began to cut away at the wire grating covering up the entrance to the ventilation system—and there was no secret to what he was about to do next. Boy Wonder was going to go for a little journey.

"What if you get caught, Eric?" A little girl asked, tugging on Tom's pant leg. "Will they hurt you?"

Richard, still working, spared a glance down at the small figure. "Probably not…I think they'd just throw me back in here, but let's not jinx the plan." If they wanted to kill him they would have done it long ago rather than go through all that trouble to get him away from Bruce. And if they felt punishment was called for if he was caught…well, bring on the pain. There wasn't much they could do to him that previous villains hadn't tried before.

With a loud snap the wire broke and the glass shattered in his hand. Luckily it didn't cut him, but he had to use his hands to pull the rusty grate off the ventilation system in order for him to climb in. The plan was simple—he would wander around for a bit, find out which tunnels were study enough to crawl through, find a way out and come back to get the others. The littler kids might have trouble moving along efficiently from fright and the last person up would have to be him due to his acrobat skills, but they should be able to get out alright if they weren't caught. As long as (what the kids called) 'The Boogie Man' didn't realize what he was up to, they'd be safe at home before dawn…whenever that was. Or maybe it was day already…you couldn't tell in a room with no windows.

"I'll see you guys in a bit." He said; smiling as Tom lifted him higher to slip into the vent. "And Tom—don't let anyone come after me. If I come back in less than one piece, I don't want anyone crawling in the vents."

"For what—in case you die?" The boy snorted in sarcasm. "Now why would I have to worry about something like that? You seem like the kind of kid who does this for a kick."

Heh…he didn't know the half of it…

"I'll see you guys around." He sighed, sitting up in the large vent as Tom handed the grate back up to him. Fitting it delicately back into place, he started down in the general direction ahead.

"Good luck…"

-C-

She wasn't the type to care about someone else's business unless it concerned her, but she had a few soft spots and one was for saving something she happened to share (i.e. The planet if such a thing would include her), cats, children…She hated to admit it, but she had a rather long list.

—And curse the poor fool who said she was doing the Bat a favor. She was…doing this for the kid.

"He's in_ there_?" Standing atop a nearby building beside Gotham's knight, she crossed her arms and titled her head to one side. "You've got to be kidding me. Of all the masterful places a villain could hide, he had to pick the classic 'broken down warehouse' to use as a hide out? Come on…it never works."

"_It_, not he…" The man corrected—and oh how she hated it when a man corrected her. "And yes, Robin's in there…"

Something sparkled in the corner of her eye and she grinned. "In costume or as a civilian?"

She could see how tight his lips were, the upset look to that part of his face which she could see.

"…Yes."

Stern and cold…but she could detect the trouble.

"Don't worry; I won't sell the kid's identity out to anyone. He'd have too many upset men after his tail feathers if I did such a thing…" She strolled over to the edge of the building and stared at the alleyway below. "Besides—what's to say he's the only kid locked up in there—and why on earth am I here?" She spun around sharply and gave him an odd look. "I thought you knew everything?"

"It seems to be everywhere, but I'm betting that's it can only focus on one thing at a time, like any regular being. One of us finds and grabs the kids—the other causes a distraction."

Made sense…

"Fine…but you're the distraction…" And she jumped off the side of the building to emphasize her point. She would wait until he made some noise and then she'd start her search…"

-BM-

They did not like to wait and they did not believe in unfinished business. Patience was a virtue but when you were dealing with a person who could ruin everything, then everything put on edge…regardless if you were human or not…

So they waited, dark as ever, in the main factory of the building. The Dark Knight was a fighter, and he always had his vengeance no matter how long it took him to fulfill it. He would come to them, and then they would kill him—and he wouldn't find the boy or the other children. They were locked up tight in a room, illusion falling every site and sound down the hall toward them. No one would stumble upon them…unless prompted to…

Sound.

He tripped or knocked something over—there was a clatter on the catwalks above. They could sense his presence and knew he was waiting just the same as they were. The question was—who held the first turn?

_We do…_

But not now…there was something else amiss…

-R-

Dust like you would never believe—the building had to be ancient! Why it wasn't demolished yet was beyond his imagination, but at least the vents weren't too small for him to fit through. Heck—Bruce could have climbed in after him!

He grew accustomed to the endless twists and turns son after embarking on his small adventure and keep a mental map of were he came from. Chances were, he'd get lost at least once or twice on the way back to the others but he'd get back on track without too much trouble.

After making two right turns and then a left down a single path, he came to a dead-end. Or…not exactly a dead end. There was another grate ahead, just like the so many he had seen before. But there was something different here…

A whispery voice…

"_Here, kitty kitty…"_

What was she doing there?

Neutral criminal/… (Well, he didn't know what else to call her), Catwoman was stalking around in search of a _cat_? Well, whatever the case, she could be in danger.

A favor to the Bat—Richard secretly promised it to himself that he would never do such a thing again…But…if she was here then she could tell Bruce where he was…

He slid quickly to the end and sat facing the grate. Pulling the knee of his right leg up to his chest, he took aim and knocked the grate straight off the ventilation. It went flying, followed by a screechy _'OW'_, and jumped down out of the vent gracefully.

"What the hell is up with this place!" The woman exclaimed, rubbing the side of her head as she picked up the fallen grate and chucked it across the room. "Warn a lady, would you!"

Smiling inwardly, he sent her an apologetic expression. "Sorry. I'm just in a hurry to get out of here."

Frowning, she sighed heavily and stared down at him curiously. "Well then—what are you waiting for? Let's get going before your parents have a heart attack." She took his small hand into her own and began to drag him down the hall.

"No!" He braced his feet and after a few tugs she obeyed to his command. Glaring down at him, she silently demanded an answer. "There are other kids here—we can't leave them!"

There was an inner conflict going on inside her head—he could see it working on her face. She stared down the hall and then back at him, then at the grate—and back down the hall. "Oh…can't I get you out of here first and then get the others out? I'm sure the cops can handle it."

"No!" He shook his head and slid his hand free of her grip. Starting back toward the wall, he looked up at the vent. "If you want to leave—that's fine with me. Just give me a boost back up into here and I'll be out of your hair forever."

He expected her to help—or leave, actually, but there was a long hesitation. She didn't move or say anything and when he turned around to stare at her in dark, there was a curious look spread across her face. Crossing her arms, she titled her head to one side in thought, squinted, and began to think.

"You're him…aren't you?" She stepped closer. "The Bat's kid—you're Robin."

That's right…she didn't know him…

Turning his face away, he repeated his question. "Would you give me a boost already? I have someone who needs my help."

"You are him…" She said softly, coming closer and lifting him up into the vent. "And relax—I'll help. It's just…who are you?"

"I'll tell you my face when you tell me yours."

He could almost hear her whiny expression but she seemed to understand. As soon as he climbed into the ventilation system further, she jumped in and followed behind. He'd lead her to the other children and then she'd help him get them out, and maybe…maybe she wouldn't be such a criminal anymore…

-A-

Sorry, I'm on the school library and I start really soon. Excuse me if this is too short, but it's only because of the amount of time I have to write it—I'll be getting to work on my other stories as well as soon as I gather the time. Have fun at school!... (Although I don't know if you like it or not…)

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


	10. Chapter ten: You don't exist

The Boogie Man

Alexnandru Van Gordon

My little sister is sick again, so I decided to update a mini-robin story to brighten up her day. For all of you who have younger siblings—love them while their shorter than you because, chances are, some day they'll be better than you at something and they'll rub it in your face forever.

Where were we? Oh yeah…you might have to backtrack...I know I had to…ahem…anyway…OH! **Remember**: "Eric" is Richard—he lied to the other kids about his name to conceal his identity if anyone put two and two together…Never mind…

DISCLAIMER: (wow, when was the last time I had one of these) Heck no—I don't own anything of the like. Just this little word document and the shirt on my back…

CHAPTER TEN: You don't exist…

Tom started biting his lower lip. That kid—Eric—had been gone for a while now and part of him was wondering what happened to him. Did he get shredded somewhere in the factory? Was he stuck in the vents? Did he run into the boogie-man guys?...Oh man, too much to think about…

Then it came from above…

Literally.

"_Pst! Tom!_"

Then was a small cheer from the other kids stuck in the room as Tom stood and squinted up at the ventilation system. "Eric?"

"Hey—make sure no one's standing by the vent. I brought help."

"Help? Who?"

"Er…you'll see."

Curious, but trusting, Tom backed away from the vent and watched as Eric's short figured dropped down into the room. Eric, in turn, backed away as a second figure fell in from the vent—a tall _someone_ who looked like a woman…

"Okay, kitties—stay away from the door while mommy picks the lock."

Tom blinked twice before he found his voice again. "Y-you…_you found Catwoman_!"

"Hey—I found him." She corrected, patting him on the head as she strolled on past toward the door. She gently guided a little girl aside before fidgeting with her belt. "You might want to be a little less noisy too. Unless, of course, you happen to like being in the Boogieman's company…"

Tom shut his mouth promptly.

Catwoman, with her back to the center of the room, started fiddling with the lock on the door. A couple of scrapping noises and a particular _'click!'_ later and she eased the door open a crack quietly. They all squinted at once from the dim light out in the hall, but soon the smaller children gathered around her legs as they waited for the 'all-clear' to run.

"Stay close and hold each other's hand, kitties." She instructed in a whisper. "I'll show you the way out—but you have to keep it down. Got it?"

They nodded.

It took her a second to pop her head out into the hall, checking both ways for anyone lingering around, before she grabbed the hand of the closest kid and leaded them out.

Eric lingered.

Tom ran out into the hall and was ready to follow Catwoman when he saw Eric start walking in the other direction.

"Hey, Eric…where you going?"

The smaller boy paused for a moment…It looked as though he was about to turn and face Tom…but he didn't. He just stood there. "I'm going to see my dad."

"You're dad's here?"

"Yeah…I think he needs my help."

Now, Tom wasn't exactly a '**doubting**-Thomas' but he knew how the world worked. He was growing up, after all, and his dad always reminded him that one little boy couldn't do much of anything until he grew up. What could this kid hope to accomplish.

"Eric—they're going to catch you if you're not careful."

"When was the last time you believed in the Boogie Man?"

Tom paused. "…What?"

Eric turned around, eyes cast down, looking a tad bit embarrassed. "Well—when was the last time you were afraid of something that wasn't really there?"

"Hm…I think I was seven…Yeah, I thought there was a squid hiding under the basement stairs."

They laughed together.

"Why did you think that?" Eric continued.

"Well…my mom had her old mops under the stairs, and by the way the light from the kitchen shone down, it cast this squid-ish shadow on the floor."

"When did the squid go away?"

"Huh? It…it didn't go away, because it was never really there."

"My point exactly." Eric smiled before continuing. "When did you stop believing this thing wasn't real anymore?"

"…My dad took me downstairs and moved the mops."

"I think…" The boy hesitated, almost as though he was unsure of himself. "I think this Boogie Man _thing_ isn't real. I think it gets it power from our fear and our belief—that no one can really ever get rid of it because it never really existed…but we can disprove it and smother it with disbelief."

Yeah…it made sense—_odd_ sense, but sense nonetheless. It was a child's chain of reasoning that led Eric to believing this little theory of his, but the everyone in the world was a child once and their dreams started way back when they had nothing to hold them back. If the kid was right…

"You're one smart kid, Eric…Good luck. I hope you find your dad."

Eric laughed. "Make up some lie to make the other kids think the Boogie Man we saw tonight really doesn't exist. Turn him into a man and they won't fear him as much anymore…"

Tom nodded…but he had one last thing picking at the back of his mind.

"Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"When was the last time you were afraid of the Boogie Man?"

He laughed. "See you around, Tom. I don't believe in the Boogie Man…"

-BM-

'_I don't believe in the Boogie Man…'_

NO!

_They_ materialized into the humanoid form they used before in their last confrontation with the Bat Man. Just that one childish train of thought—that _one_ dose of disbelief suddenly sapped _them_ of half their strength. Fear is what gave them power—_belief _ in the mysterious and unexplainable fed their very being. They only existed so long as someone believed in them—it only took a few small children to destroy them…

_This can't be happening…_ They thought aloud…not a good idea at the moment. Here, in the dark, in their domain…the Bat was out and about.

Actually, he was right here in the warehouse with them. Not only was their doubt in their existence, but the sun was due to rise soon. Then they wouldn't be able to materialize, victim to whatever thoughts the children had of them.

They had to kill the Bat…They had to show the children that _they_ were still big and tall and _scary_—had to show them that things that went bump in the night _could_ hurt youand _would _ hurt you if you thought otherwise…

"Heads up!"

They barely had time to turn around in the singular body they created as the Batman swung down from the rafters to kick them square in the chest. They were weak…they were sluggish—they had little energy to work with, but so long as there was a little belief in them, the Bat would die tonight. He could punch and kick and run all he wanted—even if they did vanish with the sun, his mind was open to attack. They could sneak inside…drive him insane…make _him_ believe—

No…it wouldn't work. Only the belief of _little children_ gave them power. Adults could believe in something all they wanted—subconsciously they disbelieved even in the gravest situations and that's why they're belief was no could. Children had minds like putty, so easy to shape and manipulate. They could believe in just about anything without a shred of doubt…

Children created _them_. Long ago, even before the first bedtime story was told, children fed their existence with the fear of any little unexplainable creak in the attic or whisper of the wind in the trees. It wasn't until now that they had enough power to function as conscious beings in one collective state…like a virus. What a pity that such a simple action could bring about their downfall…

…the disbelief of a few children.

_We die tonight._ They told the Dark Knight. _We'll take you with us._

He didn't say anything. What a stoic little puppet…Yes, they would take him with them. They knew it was his son that ruined them—it suited their revenge well to take _him_ specifically with them to the afterlife…if such a thing existed for them…

-B-

It was confused—that wasn't hard to tell. It turned its head from side to side as it back away. He kept close with equally slow strides forward, watching as it fought some silent argument against itself inside its mind…

_We die tonight…We'll take you with us…_

He didn't know its story—he had no idea what it was up to, kidnapping a bunch of kids and then walking around, talking in the plural third person form of itself. Nor did he care. It grabbed his son—it was going to pay.

He moved forward swiftly—striking with his left hand as it recently collected itself. It recoiled, bending backward, but his fist connected with its face.

…its mushy face…

…its mushy face that formed around his hand like putty or…_goop_.

He pulled his hand back quickly before it could _eat_ it and reached toward his belt. He had to duck his head and step to the side as the creature made a couple of punches of its own, but he had a small smoke bomb in his hand before it could recoil again and shoved his fist forward into its face a second time—meeting the same fate as before.

Letting the smoke bomb slip from between his fingers, he pulled his had back again—harder this time, seeing as the creature held on with greater strength—and jumped back as the small silver sphere exploded. The actual explosion was delayed. The front of its face seemed to expand before its entire head explode, blue goop splattering everywhere.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough.

It didn't reform its head. Instead, the neck grew longer and lashed out for him. He ducked to the left and rolled again as the large mass of _whatever_ tried to knock him down like some gigantic python. He found himself dodged left and right, having to jump back a great distance once or twice as it advanced closer.

Then his back hit the wall.

Panicking only slightly, he reached to his belt and found his grappling hook. Aiming from the roof—

--it hit him in the chest at full force, knocking the wind out of him before it stuck him to the wall. Then it expanded, no longer in the form of a man, slugging up against him, crushing him, _suffocating _him…

Another long, snake-like part of the creature moved through the air toward his face, stopping only inches away to make a head without a mouth or eyes or hair…

_Look, bat…do you see the sun?_

…It was lighter…Now that he realized it, the sky outside the warehouse windows was lighter. The sun was about to rise soon.

Not soon enough. He was going to suffocate before it came up. The pressure on his chest was beginning to be too much…

_Pray, little man—pray and think about all that you will never have. You lost today and now we will give you the time to regret everything. You **failed**…how does that feel?_

Horrible.

_How horrible?_

What are you going to do with my son?

_Nothing worse than what you've done._

What? (Great—he was having a mental conversation with a mass of blue goop…)

_He lost his only family not too long ago, and now you're about to leave him too. What a poor boy…Luck doesn't favor him much…_

"STOP!"

It wasn't his voice…

It was Richard…

_Look—He's come to see you die._

"No! Let go of him!"

Richard entered the room from the far side, slowing when he saw what was happening. The head that stayed before Bruce's face slowly extended and turned to face Richard, stopping about an inch away from his nose. It tried to scare him back, but Richard held his ground…even though Bruce could hear the shaky edge in his voice.

_Let go of him?...Whatever for?_

"You can't hurt him—you're not real!"

It hissed (how it hissed, he wasn't sure…but it did) and the mass of goop pinning Batman to the wall slackened considerably. Not enough to free him (it was sticky stuff, mind you) but just enough to let him breathe.

"Get out of here!" Batman gasped with his first deep breath. "Run, Richard!"

"No—it can't touch me…see."

…And it couldn't. Or, at least, it led them on to believe it couldn't because it didn't make a move.

_No…_ It hissed again. _…One child is not enough to stop us!_

Suddenly the head disappeared and the snake-like extension wrapped itself around Richard's shoulders. It circled up around his neck and stopped when it covered his mouth before lifting him up off the ground.

_Hush hush, little boy…_ It whispered mockingly. Richard made a high-pitched, yet muffled, cry behind the goop before something choked him off. He started tearing at the odd blue material with his fingers. _Choke on us, little one…This is what fear tastes like…_

-T-

Catwoman just scared a woman. Said woman just called the police. Catwoman watched her as she ran away…

Somehow, Tom figured Catwoman planned for that to happen.

"Now that the cops know where you are, I can leave." She sighed, patting Tom on the head. "You're the oldest, right? Watch the little ones, will you? Batman should be out soon…"

Wait…did she just say _Batman_?

"Is he the only guy in there?" He asked suddenly, before she could turn away.

She paused. "Unless you want to call that weird Boogie Man a _he_, yeah…why?"

"There aren't any adult captives?"

"No. I just said—"

"Never mind." He interrupted quickly, turning away to stare across the street. The sun was rising…the sky was turning red. "I was just curious."

He thought she would pester him about his question, but when he turned around she was gone.

Eric said he was going to look for his dad. For such a brave little kid, could the Dark Knight be…

Maybe….but Tom wasn't the noisy type, but thinking of Eric did remind him of what the shorty asked him to do.

"Hey—listen up, everyone!"

Tired and shaken from the night's fiasco, half the little kids jumped as they turned to face him.

"The Boogie Man doesn't exist!"

That's when all hell broke loose…or, at least, the miniature version. The kids started protesting until he raised his hand…

…they fell silent.

"You know our buddy, Eric?"

They nodded slowly.

"He said the guy in there was just some creepy guy. The Boogie Man doesn't exist.."

Simon, his younger cousin, frowned. "But he did that weird goo-like…_thing_."

"Melted play-do, Simon. I'll show you how to make that stuff next Christmas."

The kids started muttering amongst themselves, whispering the possibilities. Then one of the littlest girls giggled and they ate his little story up.

Sirens sounded in the distance, the sun was rising at a steady pace and somewhere, back inside, Eric was doing something suicidal…

Or maybe not. Tom really couldn't tell—but he sure as hell acted like the suicidal type.

-BM-

_We win_…They laughed (if laughing was possible. It rang out in the large warehouse anyway). _Be satisfied that both of you get to die together. In heaven may you meet your peace together…_

'_...The Boogie Man doesn't exist.'_

What?

'_But he did that weird goo-like…thing.'_

'_Melted play-do, Simon. I'll show you how to make that stuff next Christmas.'_

_No! _They're grip slackened on both the man and the boy and each extended arm fell to the ground like water. They tried to pull it back into one collective mass again, tried to form a person again, but they came together as some melting being, stumbling on two syrupy legs.

The other children began to think amongst themselves.

All was lost.

'_Yeah…mom told me the boogie-man was fake.'_

'_It's just like the monster in the closet. It's just a sweater.'_

'_That was creepy…I'm glad that wasn't real…'_

_No…No! NO! How could this be happening…_ they began to melt. The sun was risen now, the top of the sphere peeking in through the windows. And it _burned_…it burned worse than fire.

_Why are we so flawed?..._ they thought allowed, staring at the man as he ran toward the child. Both stopped to stare at them…watched as they melted and boiled away into nothing. _We would have been so powerful…but doubt…doubt killed us._

"It does that a lot." The boy murmured. Then he turned away…The child was suddenly a child no more, slipping a tiny hand into that of his mentor and followed him out of the room,

_So flawed…_They thought together, one last time. _…Almost as flawed as mankind…_

And then they were no more…

-R-

He didn't think he'd be able to get rid the horrible aftertaste of that goo-guy out of his mouth for a week or so, but he really didn't care at the moment. He walked alongside Bruce a while longer, throat sore from choking, before he yawned one too many times and Bruce decided that he should probably carry the boy. Richard protested. If he was carried then he'd fall asleep and miss patrolling when night rolled around…oh, wait, it was morning. He missed the night entirely, but hey, he was okay with that…Now he could sleep.

Bruce must have carried him a couple of blocks before he found out where he parked the car. Richard slipped inside the passenger seat and fell asleep before they got home, listening to nothing in particular as Bruce drove in silence. He wasn't much of a talker…

Talk about random thoughts.

He woke sometime in the afternoon, finding himself safe and warm in his bed again. Alfred woke him when he brought him chicken-noodle soup (the miracle soup that seemed to heal everything and anything in particular, whether you were sick or not), and he willed himself to stay awake until Bruce came to visit him. He knew he would. In fact, Richard hadn't even started on the soup before Bruce knocked gently on the door and slipped inside. He sat on the edge of the bed with that calm but frightened look on his face…the kind he had on whenever Richard nearly got his head bashed in on a mission.

Somehow this face was a little sadder.

"Want some?" Richard asked, putting his soup aside for the moment.

Bruce smiled. "No. I ate already."

"Oh."

"Yeah…"

"For the record, you suck at saying hello."

"_Suck_?'

Richard clamped a hand over his mouth. Oops…slip of the tongue…

"I guess I do." Bruce chuckled. "Look…I'm really sorry about…"

"About what?" Strangely, Richard found himself smiling.

"For…well…letting you get in danger like that. They took you from under my nose…And…"

There was an 'and'? It was hard enough for Bruce to give a verbal apology—holding a conversation as long as this was almost a record…Pigs must be flying.

"And…I want to thank you for coming back for me." He continued. "You stoppedd him from suffocating me."

"It's all in the job."

They both laughed at that.

"Well…eat up and then rest some more, kiddo. Maybe we'll do something tomorrow if you're feeling better."

"…Sounds good to me."

And it did, because even though there were things that went bump in the night, things that attacked him from behind and left him scarred forever, like the death of his parents, nothing could really touch him anymore. Here he was safe. Here he had Bruce, and even though the man wasn't anything like his real parents, he made for a good dad.

Even if he dressed up like a bat at night and hunted down villains as stress relief…But hey—a dad is a dad and you really can't argue against that.

Besides, how many dad's let you be their side-kick?

-A-

I'm sorry if the ending sounds…corny. My sis thought it should be a reflection of the story…that, and a minor insight to a nice, happy, father-son relationship between Bruce and Richard. The story is over so far (NO!—there will be no sequel), but if you want to see more comedy and sweet moments between the two, go read No Secrets. I promised my sis that I'll never stop adding small stories to that thing and so I must move on to that…adieu, my loyal readers.

_Until Again,_

_Alexnandru Van Gordon_


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